Master of Enchantment
by Subversa
Summary: It begins the summer after Seventh Year, when the war is raging on, with an unexpected moment of tenderness. What is this inexplicable feeling Hermione experiences? And how can she get Snape to discuss it with her, when all he wants to do is avoid her? Alternate Universe.
1. Chapter 1

Master of Enchantment

Book 1: Master of Enchantment

Prologue

It was the summer after seventh year, and the war was at its peak. Hermione was taking her turn in the rotation and manning headquarters, along with Minerva McGonagall. Just past midnight, there was frantic knocking at the door, and Hermione rushed to admit Severus Snape and Remus Lupin with an unconscious Nymphadora Tonks supported between them.

Minerva hurried to assist them as they carried Tonks up to a first floor bedroom and placed her carefully on the bed. With a magisterial calm, Minerva examined Tonks and said, "She has been Stunned, and she hit her head when she fell. I'll sit with her until she wakes up."

Lupin reached out and touched Hermione on the shoulder. "Severus and I need to speak to you, Hermione."

Lupin led her back down to the kitchen where all of the Order members seemed to congregate at headquarters. He sat beside her and spoke to Snape, saying, "Put on the kettle, please, Severus. We could all do with a cup of tea."

Snape acquiesced without a word, reaching for the teakettle. Hermione noticed a cut on his hand and saw that both he and Lupin were the worse for wear, battered and dusty.

"What happened?" she asked.

"We had information-" Lupin glanced involuntarily at Snape, "that your family was targeted by the Death Eaters, but we didn't know when they planned to attack. Tonks and Mundungus Fletcher were keeping your parents' house under guard. Tonight, we found out the Death Eaters were on the move. Severus and I went as quickly as we could, Hermione; we got word to Moody and Shacklebolt, and they were coming too. When Severus and I got to the house, it was empty. Tonks was on the ground in the back garden, unconscious. Dung is dead."

Hermione heaved a terrific sob, and Lupin grasped her hand. Impatiently, Snape turned his back on the teakettle and pulled a bottle of brandy from a cupboard. He poured a measure of brandy into the waiting teacup and pressed the cup into her other hand.

"Drink this, Miss Granger. Slowly." His voice was quiet but commanding. Hermione turned her tear-streaked face up to look at him; after seven years as his student, she was used to obeying his will. Snape's face was impassive, but his eyes were fierce. With a trembling hand, she raised the cup to her lips and sipped the fiery liquid. Immediately, she felt the warmth slide down her throat, beginning to warm and calm her. He nodded his approval, as Lupin spoke again.

"We searched the house, Hermione. There was a fight, that much we know for certain. Your parents weren't there. Now, we don't know that anything bad has happened to them. We sent an alarm, and most of the Order are looking for them now. You mustn't despair. Someone will contact us as soon as they know."

The kettle began to sing, and Remus stood to pour the boiling water into the teapot. Snape moved to take his seat, wordlessly motioning for Hermione to take another sip of the brandy.

Speaking in his customarily dispassionate tone, Snape continued the story. "We waited for Dumbledore to arrive; he is taking Fletcher's body to his sister. The others went on to search for your parents, and we brought Tonks here. St. Mungo's is being watched by the Dark Lord."

Lupin placed three mugs on the table and poured strong, hot tea for each of them. He topped off each mug with a measure of brandy and pushed one over to Hermione.

"Drink it, Hermione. It will help, I promise you." Hermione thankfully took the second teacup between her trembling hands, grateful for the warmth. Snape watched her until she began to sip the hot liquid. He then quickly drank his own tea, muttered something about a shower, and left the room.

Lupin began to speak to Hermione in a kindly, distracting way, asking about her plans to go to University in Bulgaria at the end of the month and about Ron and Harry beginning their Auror training the next January. He told a story or two about his own days at University until Snape came back into the kitchen, dressed in black slacks and a black suede shirt, his black hair still damp from the shower. Lupin looked at him in surprise.

"Having trouble sleeping, Severus?" he asked.

"Minerva asked me to have you step upstairs, Lupin."

Lupin stood to pour another mug of tea. "I'll go up, then," he said, also slipping the brandy bottle into the pocket of his robes. "Hermione, you should try to sleep. Severus, we're leaving in the morning at 7:00?" At Snape's silent nod, Lupin left the kitchen.

"If you have finished your tea, Miss Granger, you may try to sleep now. I will not be sleeping and will cover your shift." Snape's tone was matter-of-fact. His manner implied that he was not offering kindness or assistance, simply stating reality.

Hermione stood up, feeling dazed and frightened, as well as a little drunk. She swayed on her feet, and Snape stepped closer to place a steadying hand on her elbow. She could smell the shampoo he had used to wash his hair and his shaving lotion. He was a full head taller than she, and for the first time, she was aware of the breadth of this man's chest and the wiry strength in his arms. An unfamiliar energy seemed to pour out of him; she felt the power surround her, enter her very being, and her heart began to race. She noted the angle of his jaw, with a surprising fascination, and knew the urge to press her lips to the pulse beating in his throat. When he touched her, she felt her tummy turn over.

Fearlessly, she placed one hand on his chest and looked up into his inscrutable black eyes.

"Please don't send me away, sir," she whispered, gazing up at him imploringly.

For what seemed an eternity, they stood that way in the cozy kitchen at number 12, Grimmauld Place. The palm of her hand, resting beneath his heart, registered the steady, if quickened, cadence. She felt the pressure of his fingers on the bare skin of her arm, almost a caress. Breathless, she watched the normally tight-lipped mouth relax - did she only imagine the softening in his obsidian gaze? What was this force in the air between them, that seemed so viscous, and felt both warm and treacherous? With her free hand, she reached around him, ignoring his instinctive stiffening, not caring that her movement dislodged his hand from her arm, and slowly gathered a great handful of the back of his shirt. She needed this contact, required it, hungered for it. Closing her eyes, she tucked her curly head beneath his chin and pressed her soft body against the angular length of his.

Snape stood, rigid in her embrace. Hermione was oblivious to his discomfort; she felt safe, and comforted, and some other emotion for which she had no name. Clinging to him with her eyes closed, she could see neither the expression of agony on his face nor the clenched fists held deliberately by his sides.

Much too soon, the doorbell chimed, and he put her away from him, striding out of the room without a backward glance. She followed him, hearing excited voices in the hall, and walked right into Ron and Harry, who were sprinting past the other Order members.

"Hermione!" Ron was gasping, out of breath. "We have your parents safe at the Burrow!"

Harry looked at her closely and wiped a tear from her cheek with the back of his hand. "Moody and Shacklebolt were able to get them out of there while Dung and Tonks held the Death Eaters off. Are you okay?"

Ron grabbed her hand and began to pull her toward the door. "We'll take you to them, come on..."

Hermione was only minimally aware of the smiles and arm pats bestowed upon her by the other Order members grouped in the hall, who were removing their cloaks and discussing an impromptu supper of whatever was in the cupboard. Snape stood motionless, the crowd separating them, as Ron tugged on her hand, and Harry herded her from behind. Her, "Thank you, Professor," was lost in the clamor, and he merely inclined his head to her as she was swept away.

She did not see him again. 


	2. Chapter 2

Master of Enchantment

Chapter 1

Hermione smiled and shook hands with her well-wishers, appearing to be every inch the proud graduate – but only she knew how hopeless she felt and how empty the days ahead of her loomed.

Her parents were so pleased when she agreed to the party they had planned for her homecoming from the University of Bulgaria. Now here she was, surrounded by all of her old school friends and many of her old professors, and all she could notice was the one person who was not present.

She stood and pressed Professor McGonagall's hand before moving on to speak with Professor Dumbledore. Professor Flitwick, deep in conversation with Arthur Weasley and Alastor Moody, waved to her from his perch on one of her parents' bar stools. Harry and Ginny were at the table, laughing with Fred and Angelina over a game of cards. George and Charlie were deep in a Quidditch debate with Seamus and Oliver Wood. Katie Bell sat with Parvati and Lavender, shaking their heads over the sports talk. Ron had a possessive hand on Luna Lovegood, who was earnestly speaking to Remus Lupin. Remus caught Hermione's eye and gave her an imperceptible smile. She smiled back, remembering his one-time avowal that she was the cleverest witch of her age. How would her cleverness help her now?

"A Sickle for your thoughts…"

His whimsical tone always touched her heart. Hermione looked up into the twinkling eyes of Albus Dumbledore.

"I imagine a Knut would be more on mark," she demurred.

"It appears that everyone is having a lovely time – except for the guest of honor," Dumbledore mused, his eyes narrowing as he cast a sidelong look at her.

"Oh, Headmaster, I am so happy to see you all!" Hermione protested.

"As we are happy to see you, my dear. An advanced degree in Charms, as well as Potions, from the University of Bulgaria? Graduation with the highest honors? These are accomplishments of which you may be justifiably proud. Why, then, do I sense melancholy?"

"Just … indecision, sir. I don't know what I want to do now."

"Your next step – yes, let us discuss that, shall we? What are your options?" Dumbledore tilted his teacup to his lips and quirked an inquisitive eyebrow as he took a sip.

Hermione found herself nervously pleating her robe with her fingers. "Durmstrang offered me an assistant teaching position in Potions. Beauxbatons offered me the Charms mistress position for years one through three, and the Ministry of Magic wants to interview me.…"

"…and these choices are not satisfactory?" Dumbledore posed his question in a soft, musing voice.

"All of them are wonderful. I never expected to receive so much recognition." She met his gaze then, momentarily amazed at her own good fortune. "Everyone has been so complimentary. I'm certainly not the only person to ever complete a course of study in two subjects!"

The doorbell rang, and they were momentarily distracted, as Neville Longbottom and his very pregnant wife, the former Hannah Abbott, came into the room. Harry jumped up to clap Neville on the shoulder while Ginny and Alicia ran to embrace Hannah and to ask after the baby. Hermione waved to them, hoping her face did not show the sharp disappointment she felt.

"But you have not been congratulated by everyone, have you, Hermione?"

Feeling momentarily naked to his penetrating gaze, she looked up into his eyes and saw nothing but complete understanding. Abruptly, she decided not to lie.

"No, Headmaster, not by everyone." Horrified, she felt tears fill her eyes.

Surreptitiously, Dumbledore slipped her a snowy handkerchief from the pocket of his midnight blue robes.

"He is a difficult man, my dear. Are you certain there is not another future you would rather pursue?"

Hermione used the handkerchief to blot the damnable tears, careful not to smear her make-up. "I'm not certain that I have any choice in the matter, sir. He doesn't respond to my owls, and he's not here. He has no interest in my future. Obviously."

Dumbledore regarded her for a moment, then said, "Desirable results are worthy of careful planning and hard work; haven't you always found that to be true?"

Hermione bit her lip and looked away. They stood together in silence for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Hermione ached as she watched Harry pull Ginny into his lap and place his hands on her belly where their baby grew. Ron led Luna over to the card table, and Hannah Longbottom smiled as she looked at Luna's engagement ring. Hermione knew that Ron had spent his entire first month's paycheck after Auror training on the moonstone ring on Luna's finger. Their wedding was set for Christmas. She was happy, so very happy, for all of the ones she loved.

But she felt so left out, so outside of their happiness.

Dumbledore touched her shoulder, and she looked up at him, only to find his gaze on Minerva McGonagall, who was now looking at baby pictures with Molly Weasley.

Minerva said, "Molly, the baby looks just like Fleur, only with Bill's hair!" And both of the ladies laughed, watching the red-haired baby girl in the moving photo wave her fists.

Hermione heard Dumbledore say softly, "Do not walk away from love, my dear. It is a rare bird and does not wait forever to be captured and adored. If you walk away from love, it may not be there when you return for it."

At that very moment, Minerva looked up at them and nodded a silent agreement. Molly, distracted from the pictures of her granddaughter, smiled at Hermione. "How is that nice Viktor Krum, dear?"

* * *

Hermione wished her final guests farewell, hugging and kissing Ron and Harry last of all. She knew they were puzzled at her reticence, but she didn't know how to explain her feelings to them. Thankfully, her parents had already gone to bed. Now she would have some blessed peace and silence. Slipping her shoes off, she curled up on the sofa, where she was soon joined by Crookshanks, and the minutes ticked by as she stroked his ginger fur and considered Dumbledore's offer. It was time to plot her next move. She had served through one war, for the good of all wizard-kind. Now she would wage her own war, for her heart's desire.

Hermione was nothing if not determined.

* * *

Hermione Apparated to the gates of Hogwarts and took a moment to get her bearings. The castle rose before her in the early summer dusk, and the beauty of it brought a lump to her throat. So much of her life, the best part of her life, had taken place behind those ancient walls. With her suitcase in one hand and Crookshanks' carrier in the other, she began to walk up the long drive. She heard a loud popping noise behind her, followed by a clatter and some muted cursing. Hermione pivoted and laughed with delight when she saw her old friend, Nymphadora Tonks, sprawled over a bright pink knapsack.

"I am such a klutz!" Tonks fumed, scrambling to her feet.

"You are perfectly Tonks-like!" Hermione said, and she put her luggage on the ground to hug her smaller friend. "I'm so glad to see you! When did you get back from Greenland?"

Tonks gaped at her. "Greenland? Who told you I was in…. no, let me guess…"

And together, the girls said, "Mad-Eye Moody!"

When Tonks finished laughing her hearty laugh, she said, "I was in Wales! For an investigation! Mad-Eye thinks there are plots everywhere. If anyone ever needed a nice Draught of Peace, he's the one."

Seeing Hermione's slight wince at the mention of a potion, Tonks picked up her rucksack and grabbed Crookshanks' carrier in her other hand.

"How are you? I'm sorry I missed the big welcome home party. Was everyone there? Did Ron make a big prat of himself?"

Relieved at the turn of conversation, Hermione picked up her suitcase and began to stroll up to the castle with Tonks.

"Ron is engaged to Luna Lovegood."

Tonks cocked her head to one side. "How do you feel about that?"

Hermione smiled. "Luna is the best person in the world for Ron. They never, ever fight, and she can calm him down and shut him up with one look. It's amazing."

"I didn't think he would ever get over you and Viktor. He was demented on the subject, the last time I saw him." Tonks shook her head in amazement. "What a mouth!"

Hermione grinned at her. "He's almost serene, now, Tonks. He and Luna are deeply in love. Ron never loved me; he just thought he owned me. I was the only female in his orbit that he wasn't related to." With a shrug, she added, "If it hadn't been for Luna, Ron would never have made it through Auror training. Harry and Ginny really believed he was going to bomb out of training, until they dragged him off to a party at Neville and Hannah Longbottom's house. Luna was at the party; she and Ron have been inseparable since that night. Luna always fancied Ron, in her own way. I really hope they'll be happy."

"Well, everybody knows I have the devil's own luck with the blokes," Tonks said mournfully. "I thought that Minerva had asked me to visit because she had some new professor to fix me up with." Tonks' brave little smile was painful to see. "But since you're here, maybe she's just having a pajama party!"

Hermione shook her head as she and Tonks gave the Whomping Willow a wide berth. "I'm here to help organize the Education Symposium. So maybe there is a mystery bloke." She giggled at Tonks' comical face. "You must be imagining things, Tonks. You are little and cute and funny – lots of men fancy you." She thought to herself, _I know one who does, for certain!_

Tonks stopped for a moment and lay a hand on Hermione's arm. "What happened with Viktor, Hermione? We all thought…."

Hermione smiled softly. "Viktor asked me to stay, Tonks. He wants to marry me. I just couldn't do it. I don't love Viktor that way."

Tonks shook her head. "You don't love Viktor, you don't love Ron – all of these perfectly cool men want you, and you won't have them. What's up with that?"

Hermione shrugged and began to walk again.

Tonks stubbornly stood her ground. "Hermione, I'm remembering a conversation we had when you were just sixteen years old…"

Hermione doggedly continued toward the castle. "I don't know what you're talking about, Tonks," she said over her shoulder.

"…when you and Ginny were telling me your deep, dark love secrets…"

"I'm sure I don't remember a thing about it," she said, not looking back, walking faster.

"…and you said you had a crush on…"

"TONKS!"

Hermione whirled around, her face flushed a bright pink, to see Tonks laughing so hard she had to put down the cat carrier and her knapsack and lean over to catch her breath. Crookshanks, fed up with the slow progress to the castle, put a knowing paw through the bars and released the catch on the carrier so he could scamper off and stretch his legs.

Hermione stormed back to where Tonks was laughing and said in a lowered voice, "Please do NOT embarrass me, Tonks. That was silly school girl stuff. We're all grown up, now."

She had a moment of impatience, waiting for Tonks to promise to behave. Then Tonks's eyes grew wide in comical alarm, and Hermione felt the thrill run down her spine as a soft, sinister voice said, "I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear it."

Turning quickly, Hermione found Severus Snape standing right behind her. His trademark sneer was firmly in place, and his black, heavily lidded eyes bore an expression of benign boredom. Her hungry gaze consumed the inky black hair, now threaded with silver, his pale skin, the hawkish nose, and his unrelieved black attire.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, she said, "G-good evening, Professor Snape."

Snape inclined his head slightly, his eyes never leaving her face, and he said, "Miss Granger."

"Wotcher, Severus?" Tonks said, giving Snape a lopsided grin.

Still watching Hermione's face, Snape said, "Hello, Tonks."

Hermione found herself speechless and immobilized by the strength of his steady regard. She heard Tonks babbling on about how Crookshanks had escaped his carrier and asking after Snape's plans for the summer holiday, and still his black eyes bored into her own soft brown ones. She was unable to think, unable to speak, unable to move, so mesmerized was she by him.

Tonks was winding down to an embarrassed silence and Hermione was trying desperately to break her gaze away from Snape, when a very cheerful, "So, you found them, Severus! Welcome, ladies!" startled her into looking away from him, up the path, to Remus Lupin.

"Remus!" Tonks cried and ran to hug him. "You look smashing!"

"Nymphadora, my dear, you are looking quite wonderful yourself," Lupin replied in a perfectly serious tone. Giving her shoulder a final squeeze, he put her to one side and walked over to take Hermione's hand.

"Welcome, Hermione," he said, smiling down at her. Hermione found herself inspecting him more closely than she had at her parents' home the week before and was pleased to see that she agreed with Tonks' estimation of his condition. His color was good, his eyes were clear, and his robes were new and well-made. Save for the graying of his sandy hair and a few old scars, he looked better and younger than she had ever seen him.

Before she could answer Lupin, Snape spoke again, so close to her ear that she could feel her hair stir with his breath as he said, "Did you hear what he called her? And she didn't scream, protest, or hex him."

Tonks laughed out loud, as did Lupin. Hermione turned a fraction of an inch toward the velvet voice and found Snape's intent stare still focused on her face but with - could it be? - the ghost of a smile on his lips.

She felt herself flush to the roots of her hair and was very thankful for Lupin's gentle grip, which helped her remember where she was. She squeezed his hand and said, "You _are_ looking remarkably well, Remus. I'm so glad."

A youthful grin broke across Lupin's face. "You girls need to stop with the compliments. I think I'm going to blush."

He bent over and retrieved the cat carrier and Hermione's suitcase and began to lead the way to the castle. "Minerva sent Severus out to find you two before dark; we're dining in her quarters this evening, and she told me we are not to be late!"

Tonks linked her arm through Lupin's and began to chat with him about their mutual friends in the Order as they headed for the castle entrance. Before Hermione could take a step in that direction, Snape moved into her path, standing very close to her.

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the power of his presence, then, with a determined lift of her proud chin, said, "We mustn't keep Minerva waiting."

In a voice full of soft menace, he replied, "But, Miss Granger - anticipation is a dangerous elixir, is it not?"

Steeling herself to look straight into his eyes, she said, "Only if the anticipated event materializes, Professor Snape. Otherwise, pointless waiting is a tease and a bore."

As she moved around him, hoping for a majestic sweep to the castle doors, she heard his amused, "Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger," and she knew she was woefully out of her league.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Just a reminder that this story follows canon only through Book 5. It is very, very A/U.

I'll be out of pocket for a few days, so I thought I'd give you one more for the road today.

* * *

Master of Enchantment

Chapter 2

Severus Snape sat motionless in the leather wingchair before the fireplace in the staff lounge. The windows were open to the soft breezes of the summer night; in deference to the season, his goblet held a dry Riesling, rather than the brandy he favored in cooler weather.

Dinner in Minerva's quarters had been tedious. Her cooking was passable, at best. The Headmaster joined them, and Severus was aware that Dumbledore was at his interfering best. Dumbledore and Minerva were shamelessly attempting to make a match between Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin. In Snape's opinion, not even a loud-mouthed, clumsy Metamorphmagus with all the feminine charm of a Bowtruckle would want to marry a werewolf – even a werewolf with a new steady job as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As for the werewolf, he would be lucky to get _any_ woman to marry his defective arse.

Severus glowered as he thought about Lupin. For the second time, Lupin had been selected, over his own application for the job, to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. In the glow of cooperation and tolerance following the war, even a werewolf could become a respectable professional. The improvements to the Wolfsbane Potion meant that he need only spend the nights of the full moon cycle as a werewolf; his days could be spent in the classroom.

It was not as if Severus wished any ill for Lupin. He had never been a friend during their school years, but neither had he been one of Severus' chief tormentors, as James Potter and Sirius Black were. In their time serving in the Order during the war, Severus and Lupin had developed an easy working relationship. Not a friendship – never a friendship; Severus neither had, nor desired, friends.

Severus sat forward and poured another goblet of wine, then drained half of it. He did not enjoy reminiscing. There were very few fond memories from his past that he would voluntarily recall. However, a crisis was upon him now, and he was brooding.

Hermione Granger. The insufferable, buck-toothed, bushy-haired, know-it-all little pain-in-the-arse of a Gryffindor student with that preposterous name had become an alluring, educated, enticing woman with a head of soft brown curls, perfectly proportioned teeth – hell, perfectly proportioned everything, as far as one could discern in those damn robes – and eyes the color of amber in firelight. She was a threat and he was giving her hell for it, but he needed a plan.

* * *

It wasn't until this morning at breakfast that Albus and Minerva had dropped on him the bombshell that the 157th Annual Wizarding Education Symposium would be held at Hogwarts on August 22, and that Severus had the happy chore of organizing the event. To assist him with the added burden of this onerous task, they were hiring an assistant to whom he could delegate much of the work.

Never at his best before ingesting a judicious quantity of caffeine, it did not occur to Severus until after his fourth cup, in his study, while idly perusing an alchemy journal, that Dumbledore had been entirely too blasé about the whole assistant question. Undoubtedly, he was to be saddled with some nitwit who would drive him insane with ineptitude.

Immediately, he stood and threw Floo powder into the fireplace.

"Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."

Dumbledore's head appeared as if suspended in air above the grate.

"Yes, Severus?"

Severus sat on the low stool by the hearth and asked, "May I inquire as to the identity of the assistant I am to have?"

"Certainly. A former student, who has completed the University coursework and has not yet accepted a position, is currently free and has agreed to help out for the summer."

Severus found himself with a curiously tight grip on the container of Floo powder, but did not react when it shattered in his grasp and dusted his clothing with glittering flecks. She had outfoxed him. Ignoring her owls and party invitations was not enough of a snub. He would be saddled with Hermione Granger, working daily, in close approximation, for the longest summer of his life.

"You mean, Headmaster, Hermione Granger."

"Well, yes, Severus. How ever did you guess?"

After lunch, Severus requested a meeting with Dumbledore, who graciously agreed to see him at two o'clock.

At the appointed time, Severus approached the gargoyles guarding the Headmaster's office and said, "Pepper Imp," gaining entrance to the revolving staircase. In the office, Dumbledore greeted him and sat regarding Severus gravely.

"Headmaster, when I was injured in the battle at the Riddle estate, I was unconscious for three days. You told me you used Legilimency to ascertain what I had discovered of the Death Eaters' plans and their whereabouts."

Severus stopped, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. Of all the people in the world, only in the presence of this man could he let down his guard. It did not, however, make it any easier for him to expose the least particle of vulnerability.

Dumbledore spoke into the silence. "You wonder if perhaps I became aware of information that did not pertain to the Dark Lord's movements."

Severus nodded and made eye contact with Dumbledore, who stated, "There were many thoughts very close to the surface, no doubt due to your belief that you were about to die, Severus. Images of your parents, of your childhood, moments with Lord Voldemort, and with other Order members, were at the forefront of your mind when you were injured."

There was a certain desperation in Severus's expression as he opened his mouth to speak but was forestalled by Dumbledore, who held up his hand in a halting gesture.

"Yes, Severus, I witnessed your moment with Hermione Granger when she was in fear of her parents' lives. No, she has not been invited to Hogwarts to assist with the Education Symposium as a matchmaking attempt. I am fully aware of your sentiments on the subject, in spite of the – let us say, Special Circumstances – that exist between you. I do not, however, see why Miss Granger should be penalized when she wishes to accept the temporary position of Assistant Symposium Coordinator."

Severus sat for a moment, staring at his hands in his lap. Special Circumstances? Dumbledore was right on top of the game, per usual. Abruptly, Severus stood, his eyes still averted, and said, "Thank you, Headmaster. I appreciate your frankness. I will not take any more of your time."

Severus left as quickly as possible, unaware of Dumbledore's indulgent smile or of the carefully crossed fingers hidden beneath the Headmaster's desk.

* * *

Severus moved to the window in the staff lounge; the air was turning cool, and it was time to close it. The sight of Hermione, strolling the grounds in the starlight, caused him to close his eyes and press his forehead to the cool windowpane.

How he despised weakness! His father was so weak, such a drunkard, and a bully, dealing with his wife and son with his fists and with cruel hexes and curses. His mother was so weak, cowering before his father, submitting to his tyranny, making such feeble attempts to shield her only child from the brutality of Sedgwick Snape. Severus burned with anger as he recalled how his father had destroyed her wand and forced her to do her own housework without magic, like a Muggle. He raged inside as he recalled the penury of their home, the hand-me-down, shabby clothes he was forced to wear, relics of the Snape cousins he was seldom allowed to see. And all the while, his bastard of a father wore fine clothes, had expensive liquor, expensive tobacco, and expensive women, all of which he was not above flaunting in the faces of his long-suffering wife and his furious son.

Severus' only solace was the dusty boxes of magic books in the cellar. His mother once told him that the books had been his grandfather Snape's library. From the time he began to read, at the age of five, he would sit, poring over the books. He was convinced that somewhere in these manuals was the answer to his father's violence. If he learned the proper spell, his father wouldn't be so angry all of the time and would love Severus and his mother. He began with the illustrated texts, demonstrating how to use one's wand, transfiguration exercises, and elementary potion-making. As his comprehension grew, he delved into the volumes with no pictures, books full of ever-darker magic. As he read his way through his grandfather's collection, his eager brain stored the tantalizing information. When he opened the last box and saw the aged spell books, some written in English so old he could barely decipher it, he felt a thrill of power.

He had just turned eleven and would be starting at Hogwarts in the fall. He had not found the magic to make his father love him, but he could acquire the capacity to make his father cower and quail before him.

The ancient tomes were the first things he packed in his Hogwarts trunk, and he proudly displayed them in his Slytherin dormitory. Among his peers, the Dark Arts texts were equally attracting and repelling. His knowledge made him a useful ally; it also made him a dangerous enemy.

Severus forced himself to walk away from the window, from which he could see Hermione. Taking the bottle of wine, he upended it, pouring the remaining liquid into his goblet and tossed off the lot. He placed the goblet back on the table and squared his shoulders. Fortitude came from recognizing and capitalizing on your assets. He had identified his strengths early in his school career. He was a sneaky little bastard, as Lucius Malfoy, who was a seventh year when Severus began at Hogwarts, so aptly phrased it. Severus was loyal to his House, Slytherin, and had no scruples about screwing over anyone outside of it. He caught on quickly and was an ambitious student who excelled in all of his classes, except for flying lessons. He mortified himself the first day of flying class by falling from his broom like a Muggle child on a bicycle, while the girl next to him laughed at him and the boys hooted and jeered. Severus did not suffer humiliation well. It scalded him like acid and reminded him of being in the presence of his father.

Sedgwick Snape did not fancy the notion of his clever, tyrannized, and incensed son with a wand in his hand. For that reason, Severus spent his holidays and his summers at Hogwarts from age eleven on. His mother was permitted to communicate with him by owl, and his father would grudgingly supply the minimum amount of gold necessary to buy robes and books each year – second-hand, of course – but other than that, Severus was like a foundling without a home.

He spent those summers at Hogwarts, enjoying an autonomy he had never known before. He studied the subjects that appealed to him (the Dark Arts), practiced his wand work (hexes, the better to attack Potter and Black), and experimented with potions, for which he had an unusual flair. For relaxation, he took one of the school brooms to the Quidditch pitch and taught himself to fly through trial and error, without the mocking eyes of his classmates to scorn him to shame. His activities were casually directed by the teachers who were in and out, involved in their own summer pursuits. It was not surprising that he got excellent marks in each subject he attempted in his O.W.L. year, nor that he did the same on his N.E.W.T.s.

Sedgwick Snape was wise to eschew the company of the son who abhorred him, for Severus grew into a powerful wizard, an authority to be reckoned with, whose calling was potion-making, but whose passion was the Dark Arts.

Oddly enough, by the time Severus left Hogwarts, he no longer cared to revenge himself upon his father or to rescue his mother from her chosen slavery. He went on to University, and in his first year there, his parents died in a house fire, no doubt caused by his father's pathetic habit of smoking in his bed. In attending to their obsequies, Severus discovered that years before, his mother had inherited a small family estate with a house and grounds, including a monthly stipend of gold. It had been his father's practice to take all of the gold each month and spend it on himself. The estate had been neglected; Severus knew that Sedgwick Snape would never have permitted his wife to move to a place where she would have any natural allies against his brutality. They had died in the shabby house where Severus had lived his childhood years. Now, at the age of 19, Severus was finally free of his parents. At last, he had gold and property of his own, with no more family ties, however tenuous. It was an independence he had never known before.

But by then, he had already come to the attention of Lord Voldemort, whose many interesting projects for Severus constituted slavery of a different sort.

His unfortunate manner and personal habits continued with him until he returned to Hogwarts as a teacher. In spite of his dalliance with the Dark Lord, Albus Dumbledore believed him, trusted him, and accepted him. Dumbledore also began to quietly instruct Severus in matters of personal hygiene as well as demeanor. Severus accepted this subtle tutoring with a gratitude he was incapable of expressing. He would never win Witch Weekly's Congeniality Award, but he learned how to conduct himself in polite company, how to groom himself appropriately, and even, at the behest of Minerva McGonagall, the niceties of ballroom dancing.

For the last ten years, Dumbledore and McGonagall had been encouraging him to marry. Privately, he could not imagine the woman he could endure for longer than a good weekend of shagging.

Severus had a well-ordered, controlled life. He had meaningful employment, facilities for his personal research, contact with other professional people among the Hogwarts staff, and time for his infrequent recreational pursuits. When he wanted a woman, he bought one. He had never had an ongoing sexual relationship, much less a romance, with a female. He had no use for love. He had seen love first-hand. His mother's "love" for him, her "love" for his father – love made him ill.

But these people, the staff at Hogwarts, were his family. His unspoken devotion to Dumbledore was the closest approach to affection that he permitted himself. His cold demeanor might not provide much in the way of reciprocation for the other teachers' inclusion of him in their lives at Hogwarts, but he served them in other ways, such as brewing potions, and undertaking administrative tasks. This place was his home. He was respected and accepted here. For all the healing, learning, and growing he had experienced in his adult life, Severus still could not abide vulnerability on any front. He would never, ever voluntarily place himself in a position, which could result in ridicule. His rigid control over every aspect of his life was his security.

There, then, was the answer to the riddle of what to do about Miss Hermione Granger. Nothing. He would continue to repel her personally, in every way, at every opportunity, while maintaining a civil (by his standards) working relationship. Above all, he must have no physical contact with her, Special Circumstances be damned. It was only one summer, after all.

Some forms of comfort were forever beyond him, so he had to take his pleasures where he found them – usually cowering in his Potions classes.

Before he knew it, there would be a whole new class of first year Gryffindors for him to torment.


	4. Chapter 4

Master of Enchantment

Chapter 3

Hermione twisted her hair up into a knot and stuck a pencil through it, fanning the back of her sweaty neck with a piece of parchment. July was turning the castle into a steam bath, it seemed. Her crumpled robes were in a heap on the table; even her sleeveless white scoop neck top and navy blue shorts were too many clothes to be wearing today. Leaning her cheek upon her hand, she closed her eyes and imagined a dip in the lake. Soon, she began to doze.

"Comfortable, Miss Granger?"

With a start, she opened her eyes and jerked her head up, dislodging the pencil in her hair and sending it flying across the staffroom. Professor Snape stood inside the doorway, impeccable as ever in his black coat and his robes. He immobilized the flying pencil with a flick of his wand and sent it floating back to the table. For a moment, Hermione was confused and felt like a student interrupted in wrong-doing.

"I was just resting my eyes," she said crossly, rubbing these offending orbs to clear the sleep from them.

Snape raised his eyebrows, curled his lip, and glanced at her wrinkled robes, piled haphazardly on the table.

"If you say so." He closed the staffroom door and walked behind her, glancing at the schedule she had been working on. "Still not finished with the symposium itinerary? What a pity. I was about to tell you to take the rest of the afternoon off."

Hermione shifted in her seat, feeling somehow underdressed and oddly wrong-footed. She said waspishly, "I don't need _your_ permission to take the afternoon off." A trickle of perspiration began to course down the back of her neck. She whirled around to glare at He-Who-Does-Not-Perspire, only to find him ... was he looking down her top?

Snape immediately went on the offensive. "If you wish to work as my assistant on this project, you will follow my directions. Otherwise, Miss Granger, you can," his eyes flicked contemptuously over her disheveled state, "take yourself off to the seashore, or wherever that costume would be acceptable."

Merlin but he was obnoxious! Hermione pushed herself up and stepped into Snape's personal space, noting with narrow-eyed satisfaction his involuntary step back. She followed him, ignoring the frisson of excitement she experienced from mere proximity to him. "In case you haven't noticed, Professor Snape, it's broiling inside. _Broiling!_ So I am going to dress comfortably. If you find that unacceptable, you can…"

Their delightful tête-à-tête was cut short as the staffroom door thudded open, and Tonks erupted into the room. She was wearing jeans, a tie-dyed tee-shirt and leather sandals, her toenails were painted bubble gum pink, and her hair its own, natural light brown color—for once.

"Wotcher, Hermione!" she said cheerfully, tossing her rucksack on top of Hermione's robes. "All right, Severus?" she added, not wishing to exclude him.

Hermione jumped back from Snape, and his nostrils flared in satisfaction at her retreat. He nodded a greeting to Tonks while keeping a weather eye on Hermione, as if she were too unpredictable for him to turn his back on her. "Back for the weekend, Tonks?" he inquired.

Tonks grinned at him. "No, I've come to kidnap you lot for the weekend."

Hermione goggled at her. "Leave Hogwarts? For the whole weekend?"

Tonks flopped down on a chair, and Hermione followed suit, her hopeful eyes fixed on Tonks's face, Snape all but forgotten in the lure of cooler pastures.

"Will there be shade, Tonks?" she asked. "And breezes and cold drinks?"

It had been a tense two weeks. Each morning she reported to Snape's office for her work assignments; each afternoon she delivered her completed work to him. He handed her the daily task without looking up from his own ledgers and received the completed papers back with a muttered thanks and no eye contact. The man was infuriating! After a damn-near flirtatious greeting upon her arrival, he had retired into himself again as if nothing had ever happened between them. The only time he would look at her was at meals, when he could occasionally be drawn out to speak to her. She was pleased to find out that they shared certain literary interests and could talk quite naturally on authors ranging from Chaucer to Dickens to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Snape tended to disappear as soon as he finished eating his meals, and he was seldom seen in the staffroom. She was virtually never alone with him and was finding it bloody impossible to further her plan at all.

Tonks pulled two ordinary-looking door keys from her jeans pocket and showed them to Hermione. "One of my mates at work took a couple of rooms at an inn, right near the shore. He can't go this weekend, so he offered the place to me, and naturally, I thought of you lot." Tonks looked from Hermione to Snape with suppressed excitement. "Go on, you know you want to! We can just laze around, drink lots of fancy drinks with pink umbrellas, and gossip about everyone we know. It'll be brilliant."

Snape's lips thinned derisively. "I think not."

Hermione grabbed a key out of Tonks' hand. "Paradise, Tonks. It sounds divine."

Remus Lupin strode into the room, a knapsack in his hand. He wore a light blue polo shirt, neatly tucked into his jeans and deck shoes with no socks. He dropped the knapsack onto the tabletop and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "Come on, you two, time's a-wasting. If we hurry, we can be there in time for the sunset over the sea and at least one pitcher of some Muggle frozen drink concoction." He mused for a moment. "Maybe two."

"I thank you, but no," Snape said, and turned on his heel.

Lupin barred the staffroom door. "Come on, Severus, I won't make you drink crass Muggle cocktails. For you, only the driest gin." Lupin winked at the girls and smiled engagingly.

Tonks entered into the group wheedle. "Look, Severus – two rooms – one for the girls and one for the boys. I know Remus snores like a troll – " a snort from Lupin at that – "but it will do you good to get away from Hogwarts. And I know you have swim trunks, because Minerva told us you went on holiday to St Tropez one summer." Tonks waggled her eyebrows at him. "Girls in bathing suits and food other than standard school fare."

Lupin looked pensive. "Be a sport, old man. If they drag me out to dance clubs every night, I'll go spare trying to keep up with both of them. Show some solidarity, bloke to bloke."

Hermione sat quietly in her chair, trying not to breathe and clutching the key so tightly that it bit into her palm. _Say yes, say yes, say yes_, she chanted in her mind, while she watched Snape's face for his reaction to the cajoling. His expression darkened when Lupin mentioned dancing with both girls, but he bore the air of a man politely rebuffing an invitation of dubious sincerity. As she observed him, she realized that he did not believe Tonks and Lupin really wanted him to come. Suddenly, all of her animosity towards him fell away; she walked over to him and put her hands on his sleeve.

Tonks was taking the mickey out of Lupin for being too old to dance the night away; Lupin was loudly and playfully defending himself. In the confusion, Snape looked down at Hermione's hands on his sleeve and then let his eyes travel from her hands to her face. He quickly calculated the benefits versus the risks of this proposed outing; it was dangerous to leave his comfort zone, but going on holiday could mean the advent of Holiday Severus, who operated outside the constraints placed on Professor Snape. Recklessly, before Hermione could speak, he said, "I will come with you, if only to see you in the environment actually appropriate to your clothing." Gently shaking her off, he said over his shoulder, as he walked away, "Better get cracking, Miss Granger. No doubt we will all be waiting while you pack."

Hermione felt weak with relief and a bit giddy at Snape's sudden acquiescence. "I'll bet you the price of the first round of drinks that I will be packed and at the gates before you will, Professor," she said to the back of his head.

"You're on," he replied, as he swirled out of the room in his long black robes.

* * *

The inn was small but the rooms were nice and the view was breathtaking. Hermione hung her clothes in the wardrobe while Tonks checked out the bathroom. Each room contained two double beds, a wardrobe, and a dresser holding a television set and a video recorder. There was also a sitting area, consisting of two chairs arranged before the glass doors. The girls threw the draperies wide and opened the French doors out onto the terrace, which held a white wrought iron table with a large blue umbrella and four wrought iron chairs with blue cushions. The sun was setting in a fabulous blaze of glory over the ocean. As the sun went down the temperature followed; soon, Hermione was glad of the light hooded jacket she had brought.

She heard her name and looked over to see Lupin, followed by Snape, swinging their long legs over the railing that separated one terrace from the other.

"Where is Tonks?" Lupin asked, crossing to the French doors. "Not watching that infernal telly, is she? Come out, Nymphadora Tonks! Hungry men await your presence so they can have their dinners!"

Tonks wrinkled her nose at Lupin from across the room, where she was primping at the mirror. "Look, I can have my violet hair, Remus," she said in a somewhat pleading tone.

Lupin muttered a mild oath and entered the room.

Hermione found herself distracted by Snape's movement as he folded his long form into one of the chairs. She had been having a hard time keeping her eyes off of him, ever since he had met her in the castle entrance hall, with his light bag in his hand. "I guess we tied," he had said, taking her own bag from her hand. "That means Lupin has to buy the first round."

He had smirked at her and led the way down the path to the gates. He wore what looked like a black silk shirt, unbuttoned at the throat with the sleeves rolled to his elbows. The shirt was tucked into a pair of tight black jeans, and he was wearing black trainers. Hermione had never seen so much of his skin or so much of his body, and she had certainly never seen him in Muggle clothing of the type she and her friends wore. Her mouth had been dry and her palms sweaty, just looking at him. In fact, they still were. She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans to dry them.

"Are you hungry?" Snape's silky voice inquired now, recalling her from her reverie. She stared at him very hard, looking for signs of an intended double meaning, but his expression was no more or less sarcastic than usual.

"Yes, I am hungry. I'll go see if I can hurry Tonks along." Hermione moved through the French doors, away from him.

* * *

Severus watched her retreating form, taking in all the details. Her hair had been smoothed and was twisted up on her head. Curly tendrils framed her face and the back of her delectable neck. Her hip hugging jeans reminded him vividly of the Muggle fashions of his youth, but the tiny tee-shirt, which showed a small expanse of skin above the jeans, was strictly a current fad among the young. He knew that his mouth was watering for the woman, rather than the promised dinner. Deliberately, he looked away to where the last magenta and gold streaks were disappearing in the evening sky; surreptitiously, he wiped his palms on the black jeans.

Severus had been fairly certain Hermione was behind him, staring at his arse, as they walked away from the castle earlier. It served her right, for wearing those shorts and that skimpy top in the staffroom, showing her legs and her barely-covered breasts to him. Two could play at that game. He was not quite certain how he was going to withstand the sight of her in a swim suit, but he was determined to be brave.

Severus was on holiday, and his motto had ever been: What Happens On Holiday, Stays On Holiday.

Just how he was going to communicate these perfectly rational rules to Hermione had not yet occurred to him.

* * *

In the room, Lupin and Tonks were in a rather impassioned discussion.

"Your own hair is lovely."

"Remus, I don't go _out_ like this – be a mate, let me change it…" her voice trailed off as she screwed up her face to make her hair turn violet.

"No. We agreed: no morphing."

Tonks turned on him with a sudden ferocity. "Don't you listen? I never go out looking like this, like myself – it's daft!"

Lupin stood up from the end of bed where he had patiently waited for her to finish her outburst and towered over her. "You will go out with me exactly as you are." His tone was final and brooked no argument.

"I can be cuter. Really." She looked almost as if she would cry.

Lupin took her small hand and brought it to his lips. "You accept me, 'Dora, exactly as I am. I accept you the same way. Morph your appearance for work, if you must, or for yourself, if you like, but when you're with me, I want you entirely as you are."

Tonks blushed crimson and turned away from him to apply lipstick to her mouth. Lupin stepped up behind her and looked into the reflection of her eyes in the mirror. "You are a right dish just the way you are, silly girl. Now, come to dinner – I'm starving."

In the mirror, he spied Hermione, hovering uncertainly in the background. "You're hungry, right, Hermione? I know Severus is hungry, and if we don't hurry he may start gnawing on passers-by."

Lupin herded Tonks toward the door, grabbing her jacket from one of the double beds, and shooed Hermione out onto the terrace as well. "Severus, getting a witch out the door when you're hungry is the work of ten wizards. Why did we decide to start hanging around with this lot?"

Snape rolled his eyes as he pushed himself out of the chair and followed the others down the terrace steps to the walk. "Because one of them provided accommodations for this little outing, perhaps?" he suggested.

Lupin nodded sagely. "Too right – she did! Good move on our part."

Tonks slugged him on the arm, but he only smiled at her.

"Where is this pub, exactly?" Snape asked, sounding resigned to his fate of inane company.

"Down the corner," Tonks told him and linked her arm with his.

Snape looked a bit surprised, but he courteously accepted his role as escort down the street.

Hermione put her hands in her jacket pocket and smiled up at Lupin as they began to follow their companions. "That was absolutely brilliant, what you said to Tonks back there, Remus."

"Nonsense. It was truth, plain and simple. I wish I knew who drummed it into her head that there's anything wrong with the way she looks. A good hex would sort them out straight away, I imagine." Both of them checked their sleeves for their wands, and grinned at each other. "Why do I feel so unarmed every time I go into a Muggle establishment?" Lupin lamented.

"Buck up, Remus, you'll feel better after the first pitcher," Hermione said as they followed Tonks and Snape into the pub.

They found a large circular banquette in a darkened corner, away from many of the Muggle holiday-makers who had apparently already imbibed quite a bit.

"Ladies first," Lupin said, motioning for Tonks and Hermione to scoot across the padded seat. He and Snape stepped up to the bar and placed their orders.

Tonks poked Hermione. "Quit gawping. Even Severus is going to notice that kind of pathetic drooling."

Hermione tore her eyes away from him and slapped at Tonks' poking finger. "Oh, mind your own business. I can't help myself." Then, rather pitifully, she said, "Am I really pathetic?"

"Hopeless. There's only one cure." Tonks leaned close to her ear. "You have to shag him into next week."

Hermione turned a speculative eye on her friend. "Tonks, are you and Remus…"

"No!" Tonks stared at her in comical dismay. "Are you daft? He's amazing. He could have anyone he wants."

"Tonks, he just kissed your hand and called you a dish, and – "

Tonks became engrossed in the contents of her coin purse. "It's habit with him. We had some assignments together during the war, and we got to be good friends." There was a rather rueful look on her heart-shaped face. "He thinks I have something he calls 'poor self-esteem.' He's just being a mate, getting me to buck up and think more of myself, you know."

Hermione tried again. "Tonks, listen. I really believe that Remus is attracted to you."

Tonks shook her head stubbornly. "I've had boyfriends, Hermione. I know how a bloke acts when he fancies me. Remus has never put one toe over the line." She looked across the room at the two men leaning on the bar, one laughing, the other sneering, and gave an audible sigh. "He thinks of me as a friend – or a sister, maybe."

Lupin and Snape walked back to the table with the drinks. Lupin carried a pitcher of margaritas and three cocktail glasses, the stems threaded through the fingers of one hand. Snape carried a highball glass of clear liquid over ice. Lupin slid in next to Tonks, and Snape took the place next to Hermione.

"Four fish-and-chips coming up," Lupin informed them, pouring the margarita concoction into the three cocktail glasses and handing them out to the girls.

"Remind me again why we're eating at this _drinking_ establishment?" Snape queried dryly, leaning back and swallowing a portion of his own drink.

"Because we wanted a bit of food to keep us from getting sick on the drink, mate," Tonks told him, raising her glass. "To mini-breaks at the beach!"

Lupin and Hermione raised their frivolous drinks and waited until Snape grumbled and touched his glass to theirs.

* * *

They were on the third pitcher when the truth-telling began.

After the first pitcher, Snape gave in and allowed Hermione to pour a margarita for him. They ate the fish-and-chips, watched the Muggles throwing pointy instruments at an oddly segmented board ("I'm telling you, the game is called DARTS," Hermione insisted), observed some of the Muggles dancing, and they talked, and they laughed. Well, Snape didn't laugh, but he did snort a time or two.

They reminisced about their school days at Hogwarts, when they were each students. Thankfully, Lupin and Snape kept their memories to general topics and did not re-live ancient history. They each told their most and least favorite classes and teachers. When Tonks, followed by Hermione, said that Snape had been their least favorite teacher, his lips quirked up on one side, and he sketched a bow from his seat. "We aim to please," he assured them obnoxiously.

Lupin and Tonks, who had both been in close quarters with Snape at one time or another during their work for the Order, exchanged a look. They had never seen him so loose and talkative and human. It was gratifying, but also alarming, because there was no precedent for where this behavior would take him.

Neither of them had ever met Holiday Severus before.

They imbibed more tequila-laced margaritas, and Tonks followed up with the topic of her first shared fumble at school. She was quite droll, telling the story of meeting a fellow student on the Astronomy Tower one night. "Old Charlie got the surprise of his life when he found out I wasn't wearing any knickers…"

Lupin reminisced about his first time, in sixth year, in an empty dungeon classroom – "No, a gentleman doesn't kiss and tell," he answered Snape's snide query.

Snape made a "Phhht," sound, and said, ticking each point off on his long fingers, "If you were in the dungeons, it was a Slytherin, because there wasn't a Hufflepuff girl in our year you'd have looked at twice. It had to be a prefect, because you wouldn't risk a non-prefect endangering your position. It was either Belinda Flint or Mary Nott." He watched Lupin's astonishment with a self-congratulatory smirk, and offered his empty glass for a refill.

"Well, Severus, you were the observant one, apparently. I have no clue with whom _you_ took a tumble." Lupin gave Snape a feral grin and took a sip of his drink.

"Well, you wouldn't know the lady, Lupin. She wasn't at Hogwarts." Snape's manner was almost a dare.

"Met a stranger on holiday, did you?" Tonks inquired a bit drunkenly.

"No," Snape said, drawing his words out sardonically. "When we left school, all the seventh-year boys in Slytherin were given a gift by a Slytherin alumnus – Lucius Malfoy, actually." He paused for effect. "Twenty-four hours in an expensive brothel. In Paris."

Lupin's mouth sagged open. "Twenty-four hours? At the age of eighteen?" He shook his head sadly. "Now I wish I'd been a Slytherin," he mourned to Tonks, who punched his shoulder.

"Hush your mouth, Mr Squiffy. It's Hermione's turn."

* * *

Hermione was a bit squiffy herself. She was loving the way Snape was loosening up, loving the occasional bumps of his hand or knee under the banquette table, loving her dear friends, Tonks and Remus, having the loveliest time – and then she heard the topic of conversation.

Merlin's beard, she did NOT want to answer this question. She should make something up, but her brain was blank; she couldn't think of a single lie to tell. She _could_ throw Viktor under the bus, poor thing, but he wasn't here to defend himself and that would be really low. She _could_ refuse to answer, but it would be so childish. Oh, how utterly humiliating, twenty-one years old and never been…

They were all looking at her now, Lupin and Tonks with drunken sincerity, and Snape with unholy amusement – was the git looking _smug_? Did he dare?

"Hermione?" Tonks prompted again.

Too late, the drunken Lupin discerned Hermione's predicament, and said, "Oh, Merlin, look at the time, they're going to close the place with us still in it..."

It was a brave attempt, but Hermione paid him no mind; she was staring at Snape's face. He was now very attentive and focused on her. "I didn't take a tumble at Hogwarts. I haven't. Ever. Yet."

Hermione did not stop to analyze Snape's startled reaction to her revelation. Speaking with the exaggerated enunciation of drunks everywhere, she said, "Would you let me out, please, Professor Snape? I need to visit the Ladies'."

Snape moved across the banquette with alacrity, allowing her to escape the suddenly close confines of the booth. She took three steps and turned back to the table, drilling all three of them with a slightly out-of-focus glare. "Not for lack of offers, mind you." Then she continued her weaving trek to the loo.

* * *

Severus watched her go off to the Ladies', his expression carefully schooled to indifference.

Merlin's beard! A virgin – a twenty-one-year-old virgin, of all the freakish bad luck. All that time living in Potter's and Weasley's pockets, two years of war, three bloody years with that Krum fellow in Bulgaria, and she couldn't manage to rid herself of her virginity. Well, that was a sobering thought, if ever he had one. Damn, damn, damn.

Stalking to the bar, he paid their tab and waited for Hermione to return from the bathroom. Sodding Lupin and Tonks could damn well stay the night if they wanted. Apparently they did not want, as they joined him at the door. Hermione came back from the loo and pushed out the exit door with an air of studied nonchalance.

* * *

Of one accord, the four began the short walk back. As they approached the front of the inn, Tonks turned with a look of absolute mischief on her face.

"There's an indoor pool." Her voice was excited but hushed. "Fancy a dip?"

Lupin cocked his head to one side and surveyed the detached structure at which Tonks was pointing. "Nothing like a swim after a night of drinking," he mused.

Hermione was looking from one to the other of them in horror. Were they mental? "The pool has been closed since ten o'clock," she hissed, indicating the posted hours. "We'll get thrown out if we wake anyone!"

Tonks pointed her wand at the door and muttered, "_Alohomora_."

Lupin pushed the pool room door open and entered, casting a Silencing Spell.

Hermione stood rooted to the spot. "But our swim suits!"

Snape was leaning a shoulder against the side of the building, regarding her with an almost predatory gleam. "By all means, Miss Granger, go retrieve your suit. You are a _singular_ person, after all." He glanced through the door into the pool area. "Providentially, Tonks remembered her knickers tonight – she's swimming in her undergarments."

Hermione brushed past him into the pool enclosure, where she saw Tonks and Lupin splashing about in their under things. Singular, was she? Because she was a virgin? Was he going to taunt her about that on a daily basis ?

Hermione threw her jacket onto a chaise and tugged her tee-shirt over her head, tossing it onto the pile. Unfastening her wide leather belt, she kicked off her sandals and then wriggled out of her jeans. Without looking left or right, she dove into the water and came up sputtering. "It's cold!"

She swam to the side, prepared to pull herself out of the pool and retrieve her wand from the chaise. Snape's voice, directly above her, halted her.

"I'll cast the Warming Spell. Stay in the water."

"Thanks," she answered. She didn't move away from the side, but treaded water and watched Snape's wand technique.

With a smirk, he looked directly into her eyes. "Satisfactory, Professor Granger?" he inquired with mock concern.

Hermione shrugged. "Nice wand work. It got the water warm." With a sudden surge of inspiration, she splashed his jeans-clad legs. "See? Warm water." Then she turned and swam deeply into the middle of the pool.

Snape placed his wand carefully on the poolside, and toed off his black trainers. Next he shed the black silk shirt, quickly followed by the tight black jeans.

Hermione, who was watching from the safety of the opposite side of the pool, observed the purposeful stripping hungrily. His skin was like alabaster, as if it had never seen the sun. There was a smattering of black hair on his chest and a mind-boggling line of the same hair down his flat belly. She wondered what activities he was involved in that kept his frame so lean and his wiry muscles so taut. Silently urging him on, she watched him peel out of the jeans, and saw, to her deep satisfaction, tight black briefs. Her glimpse was brief indeed, because he was in the water swiftly, and she realized she was in trouble now, because he was heading straight for her, with a determined glower on his face.

Hermione squeaked and swam for the shallows, where Tonks and Lupin were lounging, conducting a lazy conversation. Snape changed his course in the water and continued his pursuit. Hermione reached the others and slipped between them, then behind them.

"Where are you going, Hermione?" Lupin asked, while Tonks laughed.

"Away from _him_!" she said, pointing at the advancing Snape with increasing alarm.

Snape was in the shallows now and stood, walking toward her. "You splashed me, Miss Granger," he commented.

Hermione grabbed Tonks' arm. "Help me!" she whispered frantically.

Tonks stepped away from her and gave her a little push toward Snape. "Bad form, Hermione. If you're gonna splash, you're gonna be splashed." Tonks considered the nasty sneer on Snape's face. "Or something worse, maybe. But you're definitely gonna pay if you rough house."

"Oh, Merlin!" Hermione squealed. She moved to pull herself out of the water.

"Miss Granger, if I have to put myself to the trouble of fetching you, it's just going to be worse," Snape promised her.

Ignoring his advice, Hermione scrambled out of the pool, standing in the cool air in her wet knickers and bra. She was completely unaware of the picture she made, her dark thatch showing clearly through the fabric of her pants, and her crinkled nipples pushing against the sodden lace of her bra.

Snape seemed to be having some trouble breathing, and there was unquestionably a bulge in the briefs as he hoisted himself over the side of the pool and advanced on Hermione, while she backed away from him. Gods, he was a sight to behold; that rapacious gleam in his eye nearly stopped her heart. She wanted this man, wanted him in the worst way, in every way, and he wouldn't even call her by her name.

Snape scooped her up into his arms and stalked toward the deep end of the pool.

Tonks and Lupin were calling encouragement to Snape and commiseration to Hermione, but she could barely hear them over the pounding of the blood in her body. She was throbbing in places she had never noticed before as she willed herself to memorize the feel of his nearly naked body against hers.

Snape was looking straight ahead as he carried her across the enclosure.

"Sir?" she tried, tentatively.

"Do _not_ speak," he snarled.

"Well, sir, I thought…"

"Don't TALK, Miss Granger." Snape emphasized his words by tightening his grip on her.

"I just thought that, since we've seen each other in our underwear, we could use each other's first names now," Hermione said in a small voice.

He glared down at her. "Would that make you behave yourself, Hermione?"

"Yes, Severus," she breathed.

"Fine." He dropped her like a lead weight into the deep water, then followed her in, to splash and dunk her repeatedly.

Hermione was breathless from repeated dunking, and from her own pealing laughter, when Snape ceased the water barrage.

"Now, will you have the courtesy to let a man swim?"

* * *

Hermione conjured the enormous, thick bath towels, while Tonks supplied the pillowy floor covering, and Lupin rustled up an entire tea service. They then slipped into the white terry-cloth robes in the changing rooms and settled down for a nice cup of tea. Snape was the last one out of the pool, after swimming lap after lap, almost as if he were trying to exhaust himself. Lupin tossed him one of the towels and pushed a cup of unsweetened tea at him when he collapsed on the floor beside them.

Hermione watched Snape with some concern as he savored his tea. It was almost as if some rigid mold had fallen from him, and he was branching out and moving in directions she had never expected of him.

Tonks heaved a huge yawn and stretched. "I am going to have a lovely lie-in this morning," she declared.

Lupin nudged her leg with his foot. "You'd lie in every morning if you could," he said.

Tonks suddenly sat forward and placed her teacup in its matching saucer. "I have a question for you," she said in a contemplative tone.

"Spring it on us, 'Dora," Lupin invited.

"Have you heard of the Enchantment?"

Hermione looked at her as if she were bent, but Snape gave a short nod, and Lupin said, "THE Enchantment, you mean? Sure."

Tonks wrapped her arms around her terry-cloth clad knees and propped her chin on them. "Do you believe it's true? That it exists?"

Lupin sighed. "I have always hoped it's true," he admitted. "But I've never felt it, sadly enough."

Hermione was looking back and forth between them. Snape observed her confusion with a slight movement of his lips, a shadow of a smile. Finally, a topic Hermione had never found in a book.

"What is it?" she demanded. "The Enchantment? I've never read about it, or heard of it. Is it folk lore, or a fairy tale – something they don't teach in school?"

Lupin, ever the teacher, took pity on her. "Muggles call it Love at First Sight, Hermione, though a more accurate description would be love at first touch. For wizard kind, the Enchantment has an actual, physical presentation. It's really very rare; I've only known two couples who experienced it." Lupin unconsciously rubbed the scar on his chin. "It's not a requirement for love, or marriage, or happiness, even. But it is a fabulous gift between two people. It is also potent, ancient magic."

Tonks was watching Lupin closely, while Hermione looked as if she wanted nothing so much as a quill and parchment, to take notes. Snape was staring down at his empty teacup, every line of his formerly relaxed body now rigid and tense.

"Who, Remus?" Tonks asked softly. "Who did you know? The ones who were touched?"

"James and Lily Potter are the only ones among my contemporaries. In my family, my father's grandparents were blessed that way."

Tonks nodded respectfully, a far-away look in her eyes.

Lupin smiled at Snape. "Severus, I'm surprised you haven't said one biting thing during this entire discussion. Why?"

Snape shrugged and pushed his empty teacup away from him. He appeared uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, but he answered, "The Enchantment is a scientifically verifiable phenomenon. It sounds like a load of Thestral crap, but it does exist."

Hermione looked from face to face. "What is the physical sign? How do two people know if they have the Enchantment between them?"

Lupin said, "Between them, within them, surrounding them – it's like an all-encompassing magical aura…"

Tonks said, "I've heard the first time hits you so suddenly, it makes you weak in the knees…"

With one of his sudden, panther-like moves, Snape was in Hermione's face; his words were so soft that she stopped breathing to hear him. His voice was like liquid dark chocolate as he said, "It's an energy field, initially generated by the proximity of the couple." Snape's ebony eyes claimed hers and bore into her as he spoke. "It thrums through their veins like the thickest molasses, enveloping them in the power and binding their souls." With each word, the image in Hermione's mind became clearer, and Snape's voice became hoarser. "Inside their universe of two, they are overcome by feelings of safety and security, of blinding passion, and of the inviolable rightness of their coupling. It is elemental magic in its purest form."

Hermione was transported back to the kitchen of number twelve Grimmauld Place, to the night she had held Snape's body in her arms and experienced a spiritual completion down to her very core – and a stirring of rapture beyond her eighteen-year-old understanding.

Snape stood abruptly, breaking eye contact with her, and the vision in her mind dimmed. Transfiguring his clothes into a clutch of pebbles, Snape dropped them into the pocket of his robe, along with his wand. Hermione stared at him as he turned his back on her and strode to the door.

"Good night," he said shortly and left the building.

Hermione sat as if she had been hit with a Stunning Spell. Inviolable rightness. _INVIOLABLE_. And yet he let her go away to Bulgaria for three years, ignored her owls, denied something hallowed, something sacrosanct. Hermione's entire body was trembling with an excess of emotion; she was quite suddenly so exhausted that she wasn't sure she could walk back to the room.

Lupin and Tonks were moving about, chatting in a desultory way as they tidied up the pool enclosure to leave it as they had found it. Lupin leaned over to take Hermione by the elbow, helping her to stand and guiding her toward the door.

"And you know what else about the Enchantment?" Tonks said wistfully, following along with her arms full of jumbled clothing.

Lupin glanced back, a gentle smile on his face. "No, what else?"

"I've heard the shagging is amazing….."


	5. Chapter 5

Master of Enchantment

Chapter 4

Hermione knew before she opened her eyes that she had a monumental hangover. One does not live a generally liquor-free life, then engage in a night of unfettered drinking, without paying a price.

Her first clue was the dull pounding in her head and the generally queasy feeling in her stomach, but she really knew she was in for a rough morning when the bed suddenly shifted beneath her body. If the bed was going to roil about like a ship at sea, she might as well move to the floor. Preferably, the floor by the toilet, just in case.

Bravely, she opened one eye to see how her head was going to react to daylight. What light she could see was too bloody bright, but there was something blocking it. Squinting her one open eye, she managed to focus on the object between her eye and the morning light. When her vision finally conveyed its message to her brain – that that Severus Snape was looming over her in her bed – she had been giving him a one-eyed stare for several seconds. Somewhat belatedly, her body gave an involuntary jerk, and her hands scrabbled for the bedclothes, trying vainly to pull them up to her chin. But the sudden movement was a bad idea; she closed her eyes against the increased pain behind them and said, "Good morning, Professor Snape."

"I hate to disillusion you, Miss Granger, but morning was quite a while ago."

She could hear the sneer, even if she couldn't see it. "Would it be rude to ask why you're in my bed?" she asked, putting a hand to her aching brow.

"Technically, I am _on_ your bed, not _in_ your bed. I would be happy to make the adjustment, however, if it is necessary to your well-being."

Hermione clenched her teeth and dared to open both eyes in a painful squint. She was dimly surprised to see him wearing a short-sleeved dark green shirt unbuttoned over his bare chest and dark green swimming trunks with a tiny pattern of silver snakes on the fabric. As her eyes traveled up to his face, she found that he was staring at the thin straps and low neckline of her white silk chemise.

"Do you _mind_?" she demanded, trying again to tug the sheet higher on her body, only to find her attempts foiled by his body weight on the bedclothes.

"Come, Miss Granger, I'm sure you learned at primary school that turnabout is fair play," he drawled, letting his eyes travel insolently from her breasts to her face. "Or were you not staring at my chest a moment ago?"

Her answer to that comment was an exclamation of frustration and another fruitless tug at the sheet. In defeat, she scooted farther down the bed, covering herself more completely, and then put her hands to her aching head.

"What do you call that garment?" he inquired idly.

"Entirely insufficient, apparently," she muttered, rolling to her left and giving him her back. "Go away, I feel sick."

"Am I to understand that you have no use for this hangover antidote?"

Hermione rolled back to face him quickly enough to make her head swim sickeningly for a moment. Going in and out of focus, she could see the stoppered bottle held in his long fingers. Mutely, she held out her hand.

Snape held the bottle just out of her reach, an inquiring lift to his brow.

"Please."

She really hated to whinge.

"Please what?"

Smug bastard. "Please give me the damn bottle before I throw up on you."

The bottle fell onto the bed and rolled toward her. Hermione popped the stopper and upended the bottle over her mouth, going so far as to lick the residue from the stopper. Immediately, she began to feel better.

Having watched this performance with amusement, Snape took the bottle and stopper from her and rose to stand at the edge of the bed. "I feel quite certain now that you will not expire from your hangover, Miss Granger. If you decide to venture out-of-doors today, I have left a sunscreen potion on the terrace table for you."

Hermione pushed herself up on her elbows, amazed at how quickly the potion worked to relieve her symptoms. "It's Hermione, Severus," she said softly, looking up at him with a shy smile.

The corner of his mouth quirked, like an involuntary twitch. "Get out of bed, girl, it's time for lunch," he said, going out the French doors, down the steps, and heading toward the water.

Hermione swung her legs over the side of the bed. Tonks' bed was empty and there was no sign of her. The terry cloth robes they had commandeered from the pool changing rooms lay in a wadded heap on the dresser. With abrupt clarity, the events – and discussion – of the night before came back to her now-sober mind.

With narrowed eyes, she stared out the open French doors at the beach, now crowded with blankets peopled by Muggle holiday-makers. It was a good thing Snape had left the room before she remembered just how furious she was with him.

Seething with anger, Hermione shut the French doors and snapped the drapes closed with a jerk of her wrist. Then she headed for the shower. Snape was going to hear everything she thought about his insufferable behavior over the last three years. She didn't care if they never spoke to one another again afterwards, as long as she was able to tell him exactly what she thought about him first.

The pelting spray of the shower washed the angry tears from her cheeks, as it cleansed her body of the chlorine from the swimming pool. She wished she could as easily rinse him out from under her skin and down the drain.

* * *

Severus settled himself on the beach chair under the umbrella Lupin had set up for their use. The darkened spectacles Tonks had provided softened the glare of light on the water significantly, and he was able to sit quietly and ignore the Muggle children paddling about in the shallows, while keeping an eye on the doors to Hermione's room.

Where had he ever gotten the impression that he was in control of this situation? What brain fever had led him to believe that he could begin to control Hermione Granger? He couldn't even control _himself_.

A less restrained man would pull at his hair in frustration, but Severus' manner gave no indication of his inner turmoil. He felt divided. His most familiar self was within him, the rigidly curbed, emotionally stunted, calculating Professor Snape, sneering and contemptuous – but it was as if the volume had been turned down on him. Gaining dominance now was the Holiday Severus, who lived outside the context of Professor Snape's world. Holiday Severus was permitted to express emotions other than disgust and disdain. Holiday Severus could relate to other people in a non-defensive manner, because Holiday Severus would never see those people again. Holiday Severus was allowed to attempt new leisure activities, because it didn't matter what strangers thought about him. Holiday Severus was a jolly chap, comparatively speaking, but there was a serious problem with the emergence of Holiday Severus on this get-away: Holiday Severus had never met anyone who knew Professor Snape, and Severus had meant to always keep it that way.

After all, What Happened on Holiday Stayed on Holiday.

Why the hell did Tonks have to bring up the Enchantment last night? If Albus Dumbledore wasn't behind that clumsy little conversational gambit, then Severus' espionage instincts were failing him.

He had realized, upon reflection, what had happened with Hermione in the kitchen at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, on that night three years before. Dumbledore could use the epithet "Special Circumstances," but Severus knew it was the Enchantment. In the intervening time, Severus had tried to convince himself that it was something else, something less decisive, that he had felt with her when she'd embraced him. Each passing day since she returned to Hogwarts belied this self-evasion. Every time she drew too near, he could feel the kinetic energy produced by her proximity. In the continuity of his everyday life, he had been able to evade the truth, but outside the context of his familiar world, he could see it clearly: Here, in the person of Hermione Granger, was his incontrovertible destiny. He had believed he could live to the end of his life without allowing another person inside his protective shell. Now he was being proved wrong by a chit of a girl. Not just the girl – surely he could have walked away from the _girl_ – but the _magic_ was beyond question.

The worst part of it all was that now Hermione _knew_ about it. She was sharp; more intelligent than any other person Severus had ever known, with the possible exception of himself. With the information she had been given last night, she would be able to nail his proverbial arse to the wall.

And he might even deserve it.

His resolve to repel Hermione, to hold her at arm's length, was crumbling. Holiday Severus could have a divine affair with the delectable Miss Granger over the next two days – but Miss Granger was going back to Hogwarts with Professor Snape, who did not relax his personal guard for anyone – not ever. Either Holiday Severus was going to have to take a damper, or Professor Snape was going to have to take a personal emotional risk.

This was not a simple matter of choosing between a holiday fling and something more serious. He was lying to himself if he believed that he had a choice in the matter.

Severus became agitated, and a pained grimace crossed his face as the truth crashed in on him. He could either submit to the imperative of the magic or try to walk away from it. The hell of the dilemma was that any decision he made would affect not only himself but would also affect Hermione. If he chose to continue his life alone, then he was condemning her to the same fate. She had felt the power between them – it was undoubtedly the reason why she returned from Bulgaria without having married that Quidditch player, Krum. Neither he nor Hermione would ever be able to touch another lover without comparing the experience to the impact of the Enchantment.

Severus' rash decision to make this trip was looking more and more like his undoing. He had lived nearly twenty years of his life in a dance with the Dark Lord, but _this_ was the hazard to which he would lose his life-as-he-knew-it.

It would fall to him, then, to make the best decision he could make for _both_ of them, and may the gods have mercy on their souls.

Severus was distracted from his cogitations when Hermione stepped out onto the terrace. Her hair was twisted up on her head again; she was wearing a basic one piece swimsuit, in Gryffindor crimson, with a matching sarong tied around her waist and knotted at the hip. The sarong left one lovely leg bare. She had been more naked the night before in her underwear, but this was the sight he had come to the shore to see – sod the ocean. He watched as she picked up the sunscreen potion and swallowed it. He saw her turn as Lupin came out of the other room onto the adjoining terrace. Hermione greeted Lupin, who was dressed as Severus was, in swim trunks and an open shirt. Lupin was also wearing the darkened glasses Tonks had provided for them, and he handed Hermione her pair, which she promptly put on. Severus could see that they were laughing together, and he felt a stab of jealousy. Oh, Merlin, he was well and truly screwed if the sight of her laughing with the werewolf could make him feel this way. With a snarled oath, he stood and strode off down the beach, away from the inns dotting the shore, his expression at once forbidding and forlorn.

* * *

Hermione looked down at the beachfront and saw Snape heading away from the holiday-makers inhabiting the blankets spread on the sand around their big beach umbrella. For a moment, she allowed her gaze to linger on his retreating figure, and then she looked away from him.

"Remus?" she said.

Lupin was in the act of swinging his long legs over the terrace rail to join her. "Yes?"

"Where is Tonks?"

Lupin pushed his sunglasses up on top of his head and rolled his eyes. "Have you ever heard of a Muggle activity called parasailing?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide in alarm as she copied his move and pushed her sunglasses up as well. "Is she insane?"

"I refused to accompany her, so she called me an old stick-in-the-mud and flounced off without me. You should have seen Severus' face when she invited him to go with her. That was almost worth the price of admission."

Laughing with him, Hermione sat down at the umbrella-shaded table and patted the seat beside her. "Sit down with me, Remus; I want to talk to you."

Lupin accepted her invitation and smiled at her with his usual warmth. "Yes, I think he likes you."

Without responding to this sally, Hermione said, "That's not what I want to talk to you about."

Lupin slumped a bit in his seat and his expression became wary. "What is it, then?"

Hermione decided to just take the plunge. "I think Tonks fancies you, and I know you fancy her, and neither one of you is doing anything about it."

Lupin looked away from her, gazing out across the sand to the horizon. "Hermione, I know that you are fond of me and fond of 'Dora. I am asking you, as a friend, not to interfere between us."

Hermione pursed her lips and regarded his profile as he continued to look out to sea. "Why should I keep quiet about it, Remus? I know for a fact that _you_ were the one who pointed Harry in the right direction with Ginny. And, that you made sure Luna Lovegood turned up at the Longbottom's party when Ron was having such a tough time." Hermione slapped the table top with one hand. "You have meddled on behalf of your friends more than once; it's about time somebody did the same for you."

Lupin turned his head and faced her. She saw such sadness in his eyes that she reached out and took his hand. With some difficulty, he said, "Hermione, I love her. Love her in the let's-get-married-and-have-lots-of-sex-and-babies kind of way."

"Then what's the problem?"

"No, listen to me. I am a _werewolf_. Yes, I've got the potion, but it doesn't change what I am. How could I ever ask a woman to make that part of her life? How could I? Especially if I love her?" His voice was down to a whisper and his head was now bowed.

Hermione resisted the urge to thump his hard head and said impatiently, "Don't you think that the woman in question is capable of making that decision for herself? Don't you think you could treat her like an adult and quit making decisions that affect BOTH of you without consulting her?" She wished very much that Severus Snape was present to hear this part of the conversation.

Lupin looked up in surprise at her exasperated tone. "What makes you think she would even want me? I don't think –"

Hermione interrupted him. "Remus, she told me last night that you are gorgeous and that you could have anyone you want. She believes you don't fancy her because you are such a gentleman with her." Trying to choose her words carefully, she continued, "We've all seen the way you treat the women you date. Give Tonks a taste of that."

Lupin began to look somewhat alarmed. "But I didn't love those women, Hermione. It's easy to be charming and to chat a girl up when it really doesn't matter, but …"

"What's the worst thing that could happen?" she asked, as patiently as she could.

"She could laugh at me. No, I could stand that – but what if she never wanted to see me again?" He looked up solemnly. "The way things are now, I can see her as often as I like, whenever she's free. We hang out, we drink, we dance, we talk about things – it's perfect."

In exasperation, Hermione changed tactics. "What would you do if she took up with another man?"

Lupin stared at her in horror. "Has she?"

Hermione allowed herself a little smile of satisfaction at his change of demeanor. With a shrug, she said, "What if she has? You don't intend to do anything about it, and a girl has needs…"

Lupin stood so suddenly that his heavy wrought iron chair fell over with a loud crash. "Who is it? Tell me, Hermione. So help me –"

Hermione watched him as he reflexively reached for his wand, glowering at her in a challenging way, his eyes blazing. All of the pathetic whinging was over, and he was a wizard with a witch to watch over. She stood too and gave him a dazzling smile.

"Excellent! That was brilliant, Remus. Now, take that attitude off and go find your witch. I believe she is attempting flight without a broomstick." She waved in the vague direction of the other hotels, down the crowded side of the beach.

"Did you say that just to make me angry?" Lupin demanded, somewhere between asperity and amusement.

"I _said_ it to make a point. How are you ever going to get to the sex and babies part if you never even kiss her?"

She watched the expressions flit across Lupin's face as he considered her words. Normally, she was kinder and more patient with her friends, but right now, Lupin as just another man who would not commit to a definite course of action. She was fed up with it.

"She said I was gorgeous?" he asked, apparently repeating the one piece of information that made no sense to him.

"Gorgeous," Hermione confirmed with finality.

With a sudden, exuberant smile, Remus grabbed Hermione in a quick hug, and swung her in a circle before putting her down. Without another word, he tucked his Disillusioned wand in his swim trunks at the small of his back and headed off to find Tonks.

* * *

Severus was returning the way he had come when the terrace came into view again. Lupin and Hermione were sitting with their heads together, holding hands. Severus increased his pace, keeping them in sight. Wouldn't it be ironic, if after all of his agonizing, she chose the werewolf over him? His lip lifted in an ugly snarl as he considered the possibility. Remus Lupin had been a good looking boy with popular friends when Severus had been a scrawny, unappealing boy with no friends at all. Lupin had grown into a prematurely grey, battle-scarred man, who had still maintained some of his youthful good looks; Severus, on the other hand, had grown into a tall, angular, ill-favored man, who had only marginally improved from his unprepossessing youth.

As he bore down upon them, Severus saw Lupin shoot to his feet in a menacing way. If Severus had been within striking distance, he would have jinxed the bastard from behind for such threatening behavior. Almost immediately, though, Hermione was on her feet; Severus knew a moment of gratification as he waited for Hermione to turn her wand on Lupin. She did not attack him, but waved him off, it seemed, in a dismissive way. _Not as satisfying as a good curse, but it will do_, Severus thought. It pleased him to see her send Lupin about his business.

But when Lupin caught Hermione up into his arms and twirled her around, Severus felt his jaw drop in consternation. The fury that filled him literally made him see red. Completely disregarding the dangers of being seen by a Muggle, he Disapparated.

* * *

Hermione was watching Lupin stride away when Snape Apparated right in front of her, startling a scream from her. The ferocity in his face made her take a step back, even as she was glancing quickly around to see if a Muggle had witnessed his appearance.

"What are you playing at?" she hissed at him. "You could have been seen!"

Snape controlled himself with a visible effort and ground out, "I would like to speak with you in private, if you please."

Incensed, Hermione flung back at him, "I wouldn't go into a room alone with you if you paid me!"

"You didn't even WAIT for a room alone with Lupin before you threw yourself at him! What's the matter, Miss Granger? Do we mere mortal men lack the bestial appeal of that savage wolf?"

Hermione stepped up to his hateful, insulting face and slapped him as hard as she could. Without waiting for his reaction, she ran into her room and closed the French doors with a pane-rattling slam.

Snape stood immobile on the terrace with the imprint of her hand on his cheek, feeling like an utter fool. He saw Hermione grasp the draperies in her hand and close them against him. With a grim determination, he righted the wrought iron chair Lupin had upset and seated himself facing the closed French doors, his back to the beach front.

Perhaps an hour of his surveillance had passed when he heard an approach from behind him – the strangest noises, really. He turned his head and saw Lupin and Tonks making slow progress toward the room Snape and Lupin were sharing. Slow because they were snogging and groping one another in a revolting public display. He wondered briefly if they would give up the fight and just shag right there in the sand, but he was relieved to see them make it up the terrace steps to the doors of the room. As they fumbled their way indoors, Snape was confounded when Tonks looked directly at him, jerked her head toward Hermione's closed door, and then disappeared as Lupin kicked the door shut behind him.

Severus was conscious of the feeling that the entire situation was spiraling out of his control with ever-accelerating speed. No longer was he agonizing over the choice he had to make; it was painfully clear to him that the choice had been made. His frenzy of possessiveness, ignited by the sight of Lupin giving Hermione a brotherly hug, told its own tale. If he were honest with himself – a distasteful exercise which he avoided whenever possible – he had to admit that the possessive feelings had been with him for three years, now. He had managed those feelings with an ironclad discipline until Hermione had arrived at Hogwarts and been in and out of his presence every day. How appalling that his self-control, which had stood him in such good stead for so long, was insignificant in the face of the dominion of the Enchantment.

He had not survived two wars with the greatest Dark Wizard of all time without learning some lessons about bowing to a superior force. He would have her, but he was still Slytherin enough to want it to be on his own terms. Would he have to brave the wounded Gryffindor lioness in her lair, or would circumstances enable him to achieve a more covert rapprochement? Resolutely, he began to gather the tatters of his pride and settled in to wait her out.

Patience was not an issue for him – some potions simply took longer to brew than others did.

* * *

A/N: The line, "get married and have lots of sex and babies," is shamelessly lifted from the divine mouth of Alan Rickman is the delightful film, _Love Actually_.


	6. Chapter 6

Master of Enchantment

Chapter 5

Hermione sat on her bed, the one farthest from the door, hugging herself with her arms and rocking. The tears had passed again; she was tired of crying, tired of scheming and planning, and tired of trying to manipulate the man into her life and her arms and her bed. The irresistible force had finally met the immovable object and the irresistible force was ready to admit defeat. Perhaps it would be best to cut short her time at Hogwarts and send owls to Beauxbatons and Durmstrang to find out if the proffered positions had been filled. Britain held no appeal for her now.

Feeling quite tired again, she stretched out on her bed and drifted to sleep.

The sound of the door opening jerked her back to consciousness. She was on her feet, with her wand in her hand, before Tonks had the door closed.

"Chill, Hermione!" the Auror said, locking the French door behind her and falling onto the nearest bed with a beatific expression on her face.

Hermione stepped over to the other bed and looked down at Tonks, whose hair was even more mussed than usual, whose lips were all puffy and bruised looking and whose swimsuit appeared to be wrong-side-out.

Breaking into a tender smile, Hermione sat on the edge of the bed. "Remus found you, I see," she commented.

"Oh, yeah." Tonks looked at her. "He said you told him I said he was gorgeous. I should hex you."

Hermione snorted. "If you weren't too addled to hold your own wand, I would be scared now."

Tonks sighed happily. "I tried to deny I ever said it, but he got all..." Tonks' voice trailed off dreamily.

Hermione prompted her. "He got all...what?"

Tonks closed her big eyes and smiled a secret smile. Hermione patted her cheek softly. "I love seeing you like this, Tonks. I'm so happy for you."

Tonks sat up suddenly. "We're supposed to be getting ready to go out to for dinner and dancing!"

Hermione moved back over to her own bed. "Well, you had best pop into the shower, then. What are you going to wear?"

Tonks hopped up and headed for the bathroom. "Remus says we're going to dress up tonight, so I thought I'd wear the little black dress. How about you?"

"I am not going anywhere, silly," Hermione said.

"If you think I'm going to go out on my first date with my new boyfriend and watch Severus Snape sulk all night long, you are wrong, missy," Tonks said airily. "Pick out something sexy and get changed."

Hermione glared at her. "Leave him here, then. You and Remus deserve a nice, romantic date on your own."

"Last night you were drooling on him and today you won't eat dinner with him?" Tonks said, obviously confused.

"Things have changed since last night, Tonks."

"Like what?" Tonks went into the bathroom and began to run the water in the shower, leaving the bathroom door open to speak with Hermione.

"Like I slapped him hard enough to give him a black eye and slammed the door in his face. He'll never speak to me again. Slytherins aren't too keen on humiliation."

Hermione was shocked when Tonks' infectious laugh floated out of the bathroom.

"Hermione, didn't you see him sitting on the terrace and staring at the door all afternoon?"

"WHAT?"

"He sat there like a roosting bat or something and never took his eyes off the door all afternoon. Remus and I occasionally looked out the window and saw him doing it." Tonks giggled.

"Oh, between bouts you had time to look out the window?" Hermione asked, then squealed when the wet face flannel sailed over the shower rod and smacked her on the shoulder. For some reason, the news of Snape's vigil lifted her heart.

"Hurry UP, Hermione! Oh, I forgot! Severus said I should tell you to wear the green dress and to wear your hair down."

"Oh, he did?"

Tonks smothered her laughter as she rinsed herself and turned off the water. She knew very well that nothing would serve to get Hermione dressed more quickly than for her to be told what Snape's instructions were.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Tonks was putting the finishing touches on her makeup when the French doors rattled. Hermione slipped her shoes on and walked over to throw the doors open. Lupin grabbed her up and whirled her around in a burst of exuberance.

Hermione laughed out loud. "Put me down, you nutter!"

Lupin grinned at her. "Can't help it if I feel like hugging everyone I see, Hermione."

A drawling voice spoke from the bottom of terrace steps. "It's true. He tried to hug me, and I had to curse him."

Lupin moved past Hermione into the room, and she was able to see Snape, who was watching her from the bottom of the terrace steps with an unreadable expression. He was wearing a beautifully-cut, charcoal grey, double-breasted silk suit with a blindingly white shirt and a forest green silk tie. His ravens-wing hair, threaded with silver, was swept straight back from his forehead. Standing there gazing at him, Hermione thought he looked like an aristocratic lord.

Snape snickered to himself when he saw how she was dressed. Hermione stood in the doorway, wearing a short red dress with a demure, high neck and high-heeled red pumps; her hair was smoothed and styled in an elegant chignon. So much for the green dress with her hair down. When Lupin whirled her around, Snape saw that the back of the dress was cut nearly to the small of her back; he also saw the lacy black knickers she was wearing beneath the short skirt.

With calm deliberation, Snape began to climb the steps up to the terrace; Hermione turned and fled back into the room, where Lupin appeared to be snogging off all the makeup Tonks had applied. Hermione stopped uncertainly, half-way across the room; she wasn't quite comfortable with interrupting the couple, who were oblivious to her. As she stood considering what to do, she was alerted to Snape's presence behind her by the sudden crackling electricity in the air. He placed a hand on her elbow and turned her toward the French doors, saying sotto voce, "We may never make it to the restaurant if we wait for those two."

With some vehemence, Hermione jerked away from Snape and moved onto the terrace. "Keep your hands off me, please," she said.

Snape smirked and stopped to pick up a flimsy red scarf from the back of the chair.

"Is this your wrap?" he inquired, following Hermione out into the summer evening and closing the door quietly behind him.

"Yes, thank you," she spat, snatching the scarf from him. How had she gone from a steady refusal to make up one of a party of four, including Snape, to being alone with him on a dinner date?

Snape waited patiently for her to precede him down the terrace steps onto the walk, being careful not to follow closely enough to touch her. "Lupin made reservations at the restaurant in the next hotel," he explained conversationally, gesturing for her to walk with him.

Hermione walked as quickly as she could in her high heels, trying to remember why in the world she had chosen to dress herself like such a tart. Wear the green dress indeed! She would bloody well wear whatever she wanted. She was so _angry_ with him!

She was a bit startled to hear Snape, who was effortlessly keeping up with her pace, command in his silkiest voice, "Say it, Hermione."

She whirled on him, her fists clenched on her sheer red wrap. "I'm FURIOUS with you!"

He stopped when she did and turned to face her, his expression open and unguarded. A tendril of her hair had flown across her face when she turned so abruptly; with infinite tenderness, Snape used his fingertips to move the tendril out of her face. "I know you are."

In frustration, she stomped one foot. "Don't you DARE be nice to me, Severus Snape! Just don't you DARE." She glared up into his face.

"I apologize for what I said about Lupin," Snape said, suggesting with a gesture of his hand that they continue walking to the hotel restaurant.

"Oh, well, THAT makes up for everything," Hermione said sarcastically, beginning to walk again.

"It was out of line," he continued.

"I can't imagine why you would _say_ such a thing to me," she raged at him, walking faster.

"I saw Lupin pick you up and whirl you around – I was jealous."

She threw him a scathing look. "Oh, please. He just did it again, for Merlin's sake."

"Yes, but I had already cursed him for trying to hug me, so I didn't like to curse him again so soon," he explained apologetically. "I'll do it the next time I see him, though, if you like."

Hermione stopped again. "You're making fun of me! I can't believe you're LAUGHING at me when I'm so ANGRY."

Snape stepped in front of her so that he could make full eye contact with her. "I'm not making fun, Hermione. You have quite a lot to be angry with me about. I just thought I'd address the slapping offense first, so that we can move on to the things you're REALLY angry with me about."

To her amazement, she could see he was serious. He was not sneering or smirking or snarling; he was speaking to her with complete sincerity.

How totally unnerving.

"First of all," she snapped, walking around him to continue towards the hotel restaurant, "_you _have no right to be jealous of me. Second of all, it's obvious to a FLOBBERWORM that Remus is totally gone on Tonks."

"Lupin is indeed quite taken with Tonks," Snape agreed, ignoring her first statement.

Hermione, in all good conscience, had to admit to herself that he had given her a comprehensive apology for the 'bestial appeal' remark. "I accept your apology," she stated stiffly, as they arrived at the hotel entrance.

Snape placed the tips of his fingers on her elbow for a fleeting moment, only to direct her steps, as a liveried doorman swept the door open for them and they walked across the lobby to the formal restaurant. Snape gave Lupin's name to the maitre d' and they were seated at a table for four, elegantly laid with crystal, silver, and china. Snape took a moment to shoot forbidding glances at the two strangers who had watched Hermione's progress across the room with far too much interest; he had the satisfaction of seeing both men avert their eyes from his dangerous glare.

Hermione was oblivious to this exchange; her own eyes were sweeping the stately decor of the room. She was very impressed with her surroundings, as well as a bit intimidated. "This place looks quite expensive," she said hesitantly.

A waiter approached them with menus; Snape forestalled the young man by saying, "Would you object if I ordered our meal, Hermione?"

Hermione was completely out of her element, and for the first time in a while, she felt the twenty-year difference in their ages. "No, not at all," she said politely, looking down to spread the linen napkin across her lap. She bit her lip and wondered who this polished gentleman was and what he had done with Severus Snape?

To cover her confusion, she lifted the crystal water goblet and brought it to her lips. On his side of the table, Snape had quickly perused the menu and placed the order for their dinner, including a bottle of wine, in fluent French. In amazement, Hermione forgot what she was doing and accidentally swallowed an ice cube.

Snape watched her sputtering across the table with wicked delight, reflecting that it had been a wise decision for him to study the restaurant menu in the room before using the strange telephone to call and place the reservations for four in Lupin's name. If he could continue to keep her off-balance this well, things might go more easily for him when it came time to discuss her remaining complaints against him.

Hermione used the cloth napkin to dab at the water she had dribbled on her chin. She had no idea how he had done it. An hour ago she had been enraged with the greasy, infuriating, and uncouth Potions master; now she was confronted with the immaculate, debonair, and refined stranger across the table, who was watching her with an alarming new mien. How could she be angry with someone she didn't even recognize?

The efficient waiter returned to their table with the wine bottle, swathed in a pristine white cloth. Hermione watched in fascination as the young man presented the bottle to Snape, who looked at the label and nodded his approval. The waiter then used a corkscrew to open the wine, which he poured into a wine glass and offered to Snape. Snape took the glass and swirled the wine, sampling the bouquet with his over-sized nose; then, he took a sip. The waiter seemed on edge until Snape nodded to him curtly, which caused the anxious young man to break out in a relieved smile. Snape indicated that the waiter should leave the iced bucket on its stand by his chair and waved him off, leaning to pour the pale liquid into Hermione's wine glass.

"I think you'll like this vintage," Snape said graciously, "it is very light, and will complement the fish quite nicely."

Hermione hoped she wasn't looking as disoriented as she felt. Grasping for some remnant of her reason, she sat up straighter in her seat, and said, "Professor Snape..."

He lifted his brows enquiringly. "I thought we agreed on first names, Hermione," he chided.

She plowed on, ignoring the interruption, "Please don't try to change the subject. The discussion last night in the pool enclosure –"

"Yes, quite right. We must consider those issues very thoroughly. But not during our meal, perhaps? Shall we agree to cover that topic when we have left the table?"

Was she committing a faux pas by wishing to hash this out at the dinner table? Hermione felt her face flush in embarrassment, which she attempted to cover by drinking from her wine glass.

Snape gave himself mental congratulations for how well he was handling her, thus far. Look at that face – the little Gryffindor was actually feeling wrong-footed for wanting to give him the total telling-off he so richly deserved! It wasn't really a fair fight; she was half his age and did not have nearly the weapons in her arsenal that he possessed. However, he was a Slytherin, so the lack of fairness did not prevent him from enjoying her discomfiture at his hands.

Smooth as glass, Snape initiated a conversation regarding French poetry, which sparked Hermione's interest, and they whiled away the wait for their food by comparing Baudelaire and Rimbaud. He knew she spoke French and thought it might impress her to find out that he spoke it also. How else did the silly girl think he stayed abreast of the Potions studies in other countries?

Hermione sipped at her wine, marveling at how well the flavor blended with the fish she was eating. This man was full of contradictions and depths she had never suspected. She had developed a crush on him in her sixth year, which she successfully recovered from when she and Ron attempted a romance in seventh year. Then came the night her parents were targeted by the Death Eaters, when she got squiffy in the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, and clung to him like a limpet. In the years since then, she had fantasized many things about Severus Snape, but imagining him as some urbane man with worldly savoir faire had never entered her mind.

Hermione heard the unmistakable sound of shattering glass and looked toward the sound, not at all surprised to see Tonks apologizing to a harassed waiter while Lupin quietly urged her on toward their table. Hermione thought that Tonks was looking very pretty, even without any makeup, in her smart black dress and shoes. Lupin was wearing a nice Muggle suit of a muted taupe, which blended with his hair – well, his hair could have used another swipe with a comb, perhaps, but at least none of their clothes were on inside-out, which Hermione counted as a victory. She smiled at them in welcome.

Snape watched the Metamorphmagus and the werewolf arriving late for dinner and congratulated himself again on his impeccable timing. He stood as they approached, placing his folded napkin on the table.

"Sorry to be late," Lupin said with a small smile, holding the chair for Tonks as she sat down. "We were unavoidably detained."

Tonks stifled a giggle at that, then cast a shrewd look between Snape and Hermione. Before she could speak, Snape walked around the table and stopped beside Hermione's chair. "As you can see, we did not wait for you," he said. "We can, however, recommend the fish – wouldn't you agree, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up at Snape with some confusion. He was clearly waiting for her to stand. Perhaps they were going to be tactful and leave the new couple alone? She saw Snape's small nod, and she stood, a tremor running through her as he draped her scarf across her shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment too long on her bare flesh.

"Yes, the fish was lovely," she said.

"You're not going?" Lupin asked in surprise.

"Only into the lounge," Snape replied coolly, inclining his head toward a doorway leading into a darkened area; Hermione looked that way and saw a dark bar, the movement of couples dancing, and for the first time, she heard the music.

* * *

The lounge was at the back of the hotel, with the glassed-in walls giving a view of the beach. Double doors at the far end of the room led out onto a wooden pier that jutted out over the water. At the opposite end of the room, a DJ worked at a large stereo system. The polished dance floor stretched from the far side of the bar to the double doors, which were open to the soft breezes of the summer night; between songs, it was possible to hear the surf washing up onto the shore.

Snape chose a table along the glass wall and waited for Hermione to sit before he took his seat across from her. He signaled to the waitress and ordered a gin with lime, while Hermione asked for lemonade; the waitress returned quickly with their drinks, then left them alone.

Hermione looked around the pleasant bar, noted the sun setting spectacularly over the ocean, and then glanced across the table at Snape, who was studying her intently. Her earlier righteous indignation had fizzled out somewhere between the ostentatious wine-tasting and the discussion of French symbolist poetry. She was young, but she was not _stupid_; she fully realized that he had manipulated her expertly from the time he showed up at her door dressed like a hawkish James Bond imitator, right down to this moment is this extremely civilized lounge – perhaps he was banking on her reluctance to cause a scene in public.

"Swearing off the margaritas?" he inquired warily, noting the expressions flitting across her face. She gave him a scornful look and lifted that determined chin; Severus' eyes darted quickly from side to side to see how many strangers were about to become familiar with the intimate details of his personal life.

"Would you please just stop with the courtesy and civility?" she snapped. "You're freaking me out."

The lounge was fairly empty for a Saturday night, Severus reflected. No doubt more people would come as the night wore on. He supposed it had been enough of a victory to put off her tantrum for as long as he had. He swallowed a judicious amount of gin and leaned forward slightly, making eye contact with her and holding her gaze fearlessly.

"You can ask me anything you would like to know," he stated calmly. "I will answer any question you have without evasion or prevarication."

Hermione, who had been gathering her wrath for a tirade, was nonplussed, but before she could open her mouth to speak, Snape held up one hand to stop her.

"But first, dance with me."

She glared at him with narrowed eyes. "I do NOT want to dance with you. I want answers."

Snape stood and waited imperiously for her to rise. "I thought Gryffindors were renowned for their courage. Are you _afraid_ to dance with me?" He let just enough venom leak into his tone to goad her. He wanted to hold her again, hold her before they quarreled. When she heard everything he had to tell her, she might choose to walk away from him, regardless of the Enchantment.

Hermione's lips tightened, and her glare intensified. "You _know_ what will happen if we touch."

Snape allowed himself a sneer as he leaned over her, placing his palms flat on the table. "You _are_ afraid, then," he whispered provocatively.

Hermione knew she was being baited, but there was a traitorous part of her that wanted to give in to his request, that wanted to feel his arms around her – that wanted to feel the power surging between them. Quickly, she stood and walked onto the dance floor, just as a slow number began to play.

Severus followed her onto the dance floor, taking her small hand in his and placing his other hand lightly at her waist on the silken fabric of the red dress. They stood for a moment without moving, wide brown eyes locking with intense ebony eyes, as the energy joined and thrummed through their veins. With what little presence of mind he could muster, Severus led her into the dance. As they moved together, their eyes remained bound until, with a shiver, Hermione closed the distance between their torsos and tucked her head beneath his chin as she had done on that long-ago night. She let go of his hand and both of her arms snaked around his narrow waist; Severus felt the increased contact with a swooping sensation in his belly, and he placed his free hand on the bare skin between her shoulder blades, pressing her to him, closer still.

As the song came to an end, Severus rallied his strength and stepped back from her. The look on her face was delicious. Her eyes were glazed and unfocused; he wanted nothing so much as to catch her up into his arms and kiss her.

Abruptly, he said, "Thank you. Shall we go?"

Hermione struggled to clear her mind, conscious only of the acute feeling of loss when he released her. She walked back to the table to retrieve her scarf as Snape stepped up to the bar and paid their tab. He walked back to her at the table and indicated they should exit through the double doors onto the pier.

"What about Remus and Tonks?" she asked him.

"They'll find their way back. Come." Snape led the way down the wooden stairs to the sandy beach. Hermione slipped off her high heels, then they set off across the sand.

* * *

When they reached her door, she looked at him uncertainly. Snape opened the French doors and nodded for her to enter. Hermione did so, putting space between them quickly, tossing her scarf onto the bed and picking up her wand from the bedside table.

Snape followed her in and closed the doors behind him, placing his wand on the bed closest to him. "I only want to speak to you, Hermione." He stood, his hands held out, empty, before him.

Her brow wrinkled at she studied him. His face still looked so different. He was not sneering, snarling, or frowning. The nakedness of his expression was interesting, she thought. Then she noticed he was approaching her.

"No." She pointed her wand at his undefended chest. "Don't come any closer. I – I can't think if you get too close."

Snape froze, keeping an eye on the wand, and raised his hands again where she could clearly see them. "Hermione, I'm unarmed. I can't hurt you."

Her laugh was not pleasant. "You have never yet hurt me with your WAND, Severus Snape."

"I deserve that." He looked into her eyes, his own expression completely open and unguarded. "I'll sit in the chair by the door. I'll leave my wand on the bed. You sit where you want, keep your wand – just please let me explain to you. I'll answer any question you have. I'll tell the truth."

Hermione looked skeptical, but even in her hurt and anger, she could see what this attitude and these words were costing him. As she watched him, he backed, step by step, to the chairs by the doors; reaching one, he sat down.

"May I remove my jacket?" he asked her.

Hermione shrugged at him indifferently, wishing that she were wearing something other than the skimpy red dress.

Snape draped the suit coat over the empty chair beside him and quickly removed his necktie, unbuttoning the top buttons of the shirt.

Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed, with Tonks' bed between them. "Okay, go ahead and get it over with. Say what you came to say." She stared at him stonily.

Snape took a deep, somewhat shaky breath. "That night, in Grimmauld Place…" His voice faded, almost as if he hoped she would pick up the narrative and begin speaking. Instead, she continued to stare at him with an unchanged expression.

"You were my student!" he blurted. He knew it was a cowardly defense, but couldn't suppress the urge to dodge her unwavering regard.

"Former student."

"You were a child!"

"I was of age."

"You were on your way to Bulgaria! To Krum!"

She stood so quickly that he actually cowered back in his chair before he caught himself.

"I was on my way to UNIVERSITY. Viktor just happened to BE there. And you KNEW I would never… After feeling that … and you LET ME GO ANYWAY!"

He let the words hang between them for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was steady and unruffled. "I let you go. Yes."

"You didn't want me."

It was presented as a statement, but he heard the hurt, the uncertainty. "Whether I wanted you or not was immaterial."

She stared at him. "Immaterial to whom, exactly?"

She had the satisfaction of seeing his lips tighten with some vestige of his usual scorn.

"Oh, use your brain, girl! What thirty-eight year old heterosexual male with a PULSE would not want a beautiful eighteen year old female?"

Her look became contemplative, and in the manner inimical to all the members of her sex, she chose the one extraneous word in his entire question to pursue. "Beautiful?" she asked.

The annoyance left his face, his mouth relaxed, and his lips parted slightly, his eyes warming to a searing gaze as he slowly looked his fill at her wondering eyes, her trembling lips, her proud breasts in the crimson dress, down to her embraceable waist, her mesmerizing hips, all the way down her shapely legs to her pretty feet. Then he took his time, letting his eyes make the return trip up her body, letting her see every emotion and desire upon his face as it crossed his mind, until he was looking into her eyes, unmasked and unreserved.

"Beautiful," he reiterated, his voice hoarse.

He could barely breathe as he watched her crawl across the bed between them, and then he had an armful, and a lapful, of crying, laughing, caressing, kissing Hermione. Severus put a hand to the back of her head and returned her kiss very thoroughly, slipping his tongue through her parted lips, teasing and tasting her mouth, caressing her tongue with his own, showing her how it felt to be wanted by him – how it felt to be so beautiful. The shared pulse was pounding in them, her sweetly timid tongue was in his mouth, her hands in his hair, her delicious little bum resting on the hardest erection of his entire life; when he gently sucked her tongue, she moaned audibly into his mouth, and it took all of his self-control to tenderly end the kiss. He embraced her trembling body for another moment, then he urged her onto the edge of the bed and stood, smoothing his shirtfront with shaking hands.

She made a small sound of protest as he broke the contact between them, and he took her hand, pressing a final, wrenching kiss to her palm before stepping out of her reach.

Her impassioned gaze questioned him without words. "We haven't said all the things we need to say," he said softly, letting her hear his own longing, not trying to hide from her the evidence of his arousal. "If I'm touching you, I won't be able to speak to you coherently."

Her wanton scrutiny left little doubt of her immediate opinion of talking versus snogging.

Taking a deep breath, Severus spoke again. "Hermione, after Grimmauld Place, I spent two years studying everything I could find about the Enchantment. I couldn't find an example of a couple who … rejected the imperative."

Studying a subject? Research? Hermione forced herself to focus for a moment, dragging her gaze away from his erection and back to his face. "Who would want to reject it?"

Severus, who had moved behind the chair, gripped the back of it. "You may wish to."

She looked at him in confusion, and actually shook her head, as if to clear it. "Severus – I had maybe five minutes of an unreciprocated hug three years ago. Since that time, I have been unable to force myself to think of another man, and you may be assured that I tried." Hermione bit her lip and looked rueful. "For the first six months I was gone, I must have sent you a minimum of one owl a week."

Snape nodded his agreement with her assessment at this point; he vividly remembered the letters he had never answered – the letters he saved, and reread in drunken moments of maudlin self-pity.

Hermione continued, "I refused to even _see_ Viktor until after Christmas of that first year. By that time, I was so angry with you and so angry with myself that I spent the next two years trying very hard to make myself want Viktor. He's intelligent, he's accomplished, he's sought after –"

Severus made a derisive sound, and she turned questioning eyes on him.

"Perhaps we've heard enough of Krum's attributes?" he suggested dangerously.

"I'm trying to make a point! Viktor wasn't some pathetic loser –" another disdainful snort "– he was everything a girl could want, and I didn't. He loved me, he wanted to marry me, and I tried very hard to love him back. I even tried to sleep with him and –"

"YES, yes, I think I get your point," he ground out. Her wide, inquisitive eyes were fixed on his face again, and he mustered his patience for her. "I beg your pardon, Hermione. It is – difficult for me to hear you speak about Krum." He struggled with himself for a moment. "I am very possessive, and I am a jealous man. If we come to some kind of agreement, I'm sure I will, in time, be less – sensitive – to the subject of other men." Considering the murderous feelings he harbored toward the Bulgarian Seeker at this moment, he sincerely hoped his words were more than a vain promise.

"All I'm trying to say is that I don't think of other men, and I don't _want_ to think of other men. This Enchantment between us is precious to me, Severus. Every girl dreams of this kind of magic with the man she – chooses."

Hermione stood, and moved to the chair between them, kneeling on the seat and looking up at him; he stood gripping the back of the chair harder than ever to keep his hands from her body.

"What kind of agreement will we come to?" she queried, reaching out and tracing a line across his white knuckles with the tip of her finger.

"We can discuss that. Before we do, I think it's important for you to know – to know about me." He slipped past her, walking along the pathway between the foot of the two beds and the dresser.

Hermione turned and sat in the chair, watching him with some confusion. "What do you want me to know, Severus?"

He reached the vanity, now as far away from her as the small room would allow. He turned his back to the mirror and looked across the room at her. His senses were clearing, his erection diminishing, and his brain was almost functioning. In some removed part of his mind, he was amazed to find that he was more afraid now than he had ever been when kneeling at the feet of the Dark Lord. What was the worst Voldemort could do to him? Torture him with Cruciatus? Kill him? What was the worst Hermione could do to him? She could remove his very soul, and leave him breathing, forced to endure year after year without her light. Damnation, how had it _come_ to this? And the hell of it was, even with the full knowledge that he was flying in the face of forty years of careful living, he was not able to step back from this precipice.

"I have done despicable things, Hermione. I was not a nice person when I was in school at Hogwarts, and after school, I became a Death Eater." He stood, ramrod straight, across the room from her and awaited her judgment.

"And then you went to Dumbledore and you became a spy for the Order. You asked for, and received a second chance." Hermione shrugged. "I don't know what you're on about, Severus."

"I am not a nice person now. I am not fun-loving, and I am not pleasant. I am hell to get along with. Passion is marvelous, and sex can be transcendent, but one must also live a day-to-day existence." He began to slowly approach her, holding her gaze. "I can – if you permit me – show you."

Hermione considered him speculatively. "Show me how?" she asked.

Severus now sat down on the edge of the bed across from her chair, their knees separated by mere inches. "With Legilimency. I can open my mind to you, and you can see. I – I won't hold anything back."

"By turn, then, my mind will also be open to you?"

He nodded.

Hermione leaned toward him. "If I do this – look into your mind and let you look into mine – will you believe me without reservation if I tell you that I accept all of you, including your past?"

A snarky Snape-smile curled his lip. This little Gryffindor was shrewdly backing him into an untenable corner. She was a worthy partner, indeed; perhaps the Fates weaving their Enchantment paid attention to such detail.

"Yes," he answered her. "If, after you have seen my past, you say you accept me, I will believe you without reservation."

Hermione sat up straighter. "Then do it. Cast the spell."

* * *

A/N: Severus' thought about "the Fates weaving their Enchantment" is inspired by a line from a Forgotten Poet, which properly reads, "How many fates have kept over us, weaving us together"


	7. Chapter 7

Master of Enchantment

Chapter 6

Severus reached behind him on the bed and found his wand by touch.

"The spell will work more quickly and more easily if we maintain eye contact," he explained to her.

Hermione sat in the chair across from his place on the edge of Tonks' bed; there were mere inches between their knees as they faced one another. She responded, her voice low and husky with emotion, "Show me, Severus. See me. Feel me. Know me."

She saw the shudder ripple through him at her words. He held his wand between them, pointed it at her, and said in a powerful voice, "_Legilimens_!"

Hermione immediately felt him there, in the forefront of her mind; she greeted him joyfully, and he took her hand with a sad smile and led her forward. She knew, in some distant way, that they were still seated across from one another in the room of the inn, yet at the same time, she had the distinct feeling of being led into the corridors of his being.

The sensation was of a sudden immersion into his emotions, accompanied by a succession of images, all filtered through his feelings. Hermione found it to be disconcerting at first, but Severus steadied her, and sensing his strength surrounding her, she was able to concentrate on the panorama of his life.

His earliest memories were of deprivation of touch. As a baby, a toddler, a small child, he was left alone, crying, reaching, needing: a baby who was not held and rocked enough, a toddler who was not cuddled and reassured, a small child left to his own devices. She saw his mother and his father, saw the war between them and the effect on their only prisoner of that war, their own son. She saw the dilemma that forged his early childhood: the love for one parent who overtly abused him and the love for the other parent who failed to protect him from the abuse. She felt the comfort he found in the boxed books, and she saw the lure of the Dark Magic as a very young wizard began down a path of need. He was driven first by the hope that he would learn the spell to change his parents, and then by hate and the desire for vengeance. The disappointment and despair broke her heart with the desire to hold and comfort the young Severus.

He led her on, into his years at Hogwarts. She saw the rituals of Slytherin House and the scorn of the girls and the ridicule of the boys with whom he was forced to pass his days. Yet she saw his peers acquire a grudging admiration of his skills and abilities, which brought him a place among them in spite of his caustic personality and his neglected physical appearance. She glimpsed the torment he suffered at the hands of James Potter and Sirius Black, the terror he felt at the sight of the werewolf, and the humiliation and frustration he felt when the Gryffindor boys were not punished for his brush with death.

She went on with him, and saw a very confusing sight: his sexual initiation, which was somehow, in his mind, interposed with his Death Eater initiation. She saw the duels he fought, and the opponents he defeated—some, by death. Deeper, deeper, ever darker, she went into an ugly place within him, a place of hate and hopelessness, with the only positive voice being that of the one whom he called "Master." She felt her own revulsion at the horrible memories of the abasement he suffered at the hands of the Dark Lord, the death-dealing potions he brewed, and knew Severus had realized those potions would be used against the Dark Lord's enemies, to torture, maim, and kill.

At this point, Hermione felt Severus attempting to disengage his hand from hers, but she held fast, urging him to show her more, ever more of himself and how he evolved. Resolutely, Severus led her on, to memories of the faceless women, coins exchanging hands, and acts of sexual abandon for which he paid dearly, in gold and in spirit. Now, here was the moment when he could no longer endure the senseless nature of the deeds he was asked to perform. There were days of agonizing before he made the decision to go to Dumbledore. She saw Dumbledore's role in Severus' life, the old wizard's unblinking attention to the recitation of Severus' acts of damnation, and then she saw with dawning amazement how Severus had lain himself open to the Headmaster's inexorable, probing Legilimency. She saw the acceptance Severus received and the absolution he felt, even if he could not name it.

Hermione was unsurprised as she viewed Severus's subsequent acts of heroism, when he turned spy for the Order of the Phoenix and used his skill at Occlumency to go among the Death Eaters and learn of their plans and schemes. She recognized his innate sense of honor, the honor that had forced him to return to the side of the Light; she saw his tremendous courage in his unswerving conviction and dauntless resolve to do the right thing, regardless of his own personal safety.

Even as she thought these things, Hermione felt Severus push her admiration away from him. Insistently, he showed her his attempts to advance at Hogwarts, the other teachers he out-maneuvered to become Head of Slytherin House, and his machinations behind the scenes to gain the Defense Against the Dark Arts post, over and over again. She watched as he began to perceive Hogwarts and its staff as his home and his family, allowing himself a sense of security behind those ancient walls he had never known in his home life. She saw his holidays away from school, how he allowed himself to ease into the persona he thought of as Holiday Severus; she saw his plan for her to meet Holiday Severus. In his holiday memories, she saw a more relaxed Severus relating with strangers from whom he felt no threat and for whom he had no need to maintain his unbending facade.

Then she saw the advent of her beloved Harry and felt Severus' antipathy and aversion for this carbon copy of his old school foe; she saw herself as a bushy-headed, buck-toothed child and felt his impatience with her personality, as well as his grudging respect for her intellect. Interspersed with his fury of impatience over Harry's many escapades at school, she felt his rising awareness of the inevitability of another, final confrontation with the Dark Lord and his minions. She was witness to his dogged resolution to reclaim his place among the Death Eaters upon Voldemort's return; she saw a glimpse of the physical tortures to which he was subjected to prove his loyalty as a Death Eater. She was aware of Severus' attempt to dissuade her from seeing the memories cataloging his persecution among Voldemort's followers, but stubbornly, she continued on through his physical suffering. At the end of it all, she felt his savage joy at the fall of Voldemort and his bone-deep relief that the struggle was finally through.

She saw then, with a blow like a Bludger to the stomach, their night at Grimmauld Place and its impact on him; she saw his agony, felt his longing as well as his determination to protect himself from _this_, what was happening right now – an invasion of his most private, secret self. In a blur, she saw his efforts to hold himself aloof from her, his final acceptance of their bond and his decision to pursue her.

Hesitantly, Severus led her to a memory that he, himself, now only visited in half-remembered dreams. He allowed her to see his one moment before the Mirror of Erised, many years before, in Hermione's first year at Hogwarts, when the Mirror had been used to protect the Philosopher's Stone. In the Mirror, Severus stood relaxed and smiling, arm-in-arm with a faceless woman, while a small black-haired boy with warm brown eyes and a Snape-hooked nose played at his feet. As Hermione viewed this memory of the reflection of the deepest wish of his heart, the faceless woman took on Hermione's features; she and Severus recognized at the same moment that his mirror-child had, even then, her eyes.

They both paused for a long moment, studying this memory. Hermione felt Severus's internal struggle: his terrific need to control his life and protect himself at last surrendered in the face of his grim decision to follow through on his promise to show her everything and to hold nothing back. At the end of this journey into his very soul, Hermione watched as Severus acknowledged his deepest, most private wish – to share the Enchantment with her – his one true kindred spirit.

Hermione could feel Severus' emotional depletion at the end of this journey, but she was determined to finish what they had begun. She took both of his hands and pulled him back, through the corridors of his being into hers. She was only half his age and a much more forthright person, so the journey was much shorter and easier to navigate.

Hermione willed herself to be open to him; she was aware of his tentative hesitation to invade her being in this way. Severus reached for a memory, pausing as if for permission, and she gestured to him, _See it all_. As he viewed her thoughts and memories, she saw them, too. Her earliest recollections were of security and safety in her mother's arms, with her smiling and proud father in attendance. Next, a blur of successive childhood memories; her pet dog, her grief when her grandmother died, her joy in learning at her primary school, her ambitions to be the best and the smartest among her peers, her excitement when the letter from Hogwarts arrived so unexpectedly.

Severus looked carefully at her time as his student, at the many times she had doubted him and suspected him of wrong-doing. He saw her growing respect for his intellect and knowledge and her quiet admiration when his role as a spy was revealed to her. He saw her repeated, tireless defense of him to her cohorts, Potter and Weasley, who frequently suggested he was leaking Order plans to the Dark Lord. He saw her schoolgirl fascination with his hands, with his voice, with his body beneath his robes, and felt an odd gratification. He slowed as he looked through her thoughts about Potter, Weasley, and Krum very carefully, looking for signs of romantic feelings that might have been thwarted by the advent of the Enchantment.

He saw that she loved Potter as a friend and a brother. He saw her impatience and her persistent physical distaste as she attempted teenage romances with Weasley and Krum. He saw her wild excitement as she held Severus in her arms at Grimmauld Place, her confusion over where the sudden feelings had come from, and her despairing attempts to seek comfort and advice from him with her unanswered owls. He witnessed her few failed attempts to give herself sexually to Krum, and he found it within himself to feel a flash of pity for the confused young Bulgarian.

Hermione felt a moment of impatience with his uncharacteristic sympathy for Viktor; she tugged him on, urging him to see all that he wished to know. She felt him examining her thoughts about her career, her attitudes toward marriage and children, and, at last, her feelings about him, right now...

He pulled her out of the chair and into his lap. Their minds were still entwined, each saturated with the other's thoughts and memories, and now he was reclining on the bed, pulling her down beside him, so that they were eye to eye. She knew, without words, that she had answered his question, and that he had answered hers – now he was entirely at her disposal – how did she wish to proceed?

Hermione leaned into him, searching for his mouth, and she found it. Oh, yes, _this_ was a kiss, this scorching conflagration launched by his lips claiming hers, as his body rolled toward her, and his torso rose to loom over her. Cleverly, his tongue laved the inside of her mouth, teasing, caressing her tongue with his; her hands tangled in his hair and she gasped out loud as he released her lips and trailed burning kisses down her throat to the juncture of her shoulder. She could feel their hearts, synchronized and beating as one, and she knew the passion burning its way through her body was creating the exact same havoc for him. Her hands found their way from his hair to his back, and quickly she pulled his shirt loose from his trousers, running her hands up and down his back, feeling his spine, his shoulder blades, the muscles in his back as he shifted his position to look down into her face, completely suffused with the power of the shared emotions and sensations throbbing through their veins.

Her eyes took in the cherished face, with its planes and angles, the thin, cruel lips, the hooked nose, and she could feel his wonder and amazement, to know, from inside her mind, that she viewed his face with desire and approval.

This knowledge seemed to hit him fiercely, like a brutal blow – always, he had been told he was ugly, greasy, loathed, unwanted, undesired …

She pushed her way into his mind with more determination now, showing him how she saw him, and with a groan, she opened up those fantasies of him that had sustained her for so long. Not only did she want him, she wanted him in this way, and this, and this …

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against hers, and for the first time in what seemed an eternity, she heard his actual voice.

"Hermione, do you want … because once we start, I don't know if either of us will be able to stop."

"Why would we want to stop? YES, I want! Please..."

She struggled to a sitting position and pulled the red dress over her head, letting it drop to the floor. Severus swooped and claimed her lips again, allowing his hands to grasp her waist and then begin a slow trip up her ribcage, gently cupping her breasts. When he brushed the pads of his thumbs simultaneously across her nipples, he was pleased to hear a moan that told him his lover was going to be a vocal partner. Quickly, he turned from her to retrieve his fallen wand, and he cast a Silencing Charm before letting the wand fall again to the floor with a moan of his own - Hermione had nipped his nipple with her teeth and simultaneously run an unsure hand up the front of his trousers, grasping his length through the fabric. With a whimper of frustration, she reached for his belt. Severus pushed himself off the bed, his black eyes locked on her face, and he undressed himself quickly down to his own black briefs.

At last he stood before her, whipcord thin and lightly muscled. Hermione grasped the top his briefs and carefully, she pushed them down his hips to his thighs. The sight of his engorged penis elicited a little gasp of hunger from her as she cupped his scrotum, then traced her way up the arc of him to the glistening drops on the head of his erection.

One touch there told him that he had best occupy her, or he would be spraying in her hand like a teenaged boy.

Severus stepped out of his briefs and stilled her questing hands, pausing to kiss each palm as he stretched out beside her. He kissed each breast in turn, opening his warm mouth to suckle one breast while he rubbed the alternate nipple between his thumb and finger. He moved his mouth from side to side, and soon she was angling her hips to rub up against him. Obligingly, he moved down her body, grasped the top of her knickers in both hands, and successfully stripped them from her body, letting them drop from his nerveless fingers as he gazed at her nakedness. He pushed gently into her mind to show her how she looked to him and to let her feel how the sight of her impacted him. She was gasping from sharing that emotion when he covered her body with his, catching her lips in a bruising kiss, taking a full breast in the palm of each hand. He kneaded her as she bit at his lips, and he gently nudged her thighs apart to let her brush her damp curls against his bent knee.

Hermione surprised herself with the way she bucked her hips and humped against his knee with such abandon. After her experience of such distaste for Viktor's caresses, she had never suspected herself of having a passionate nature. She could only be glad of it.

Severus kissed his way down to her breasts, moving his hand to her mouth to let her nibble on his thumb, while his other hand gently parted her glistening folds and stroked down her cleft. She jerked against him and cried out. Gently, he stroked her with his fingers as he sucked her nipples, and when she was writhing mindlessly beneath him, he kissed his way down her belly to more closely inspect her. Using both hands, he parted her lips and was relieved to see very little tissue obscuring her vagina. He used his tongue to lick her from her opening up to the little bud, which he nuzzled before settling down to lick her nectar. Now she was truly moving her hips, pressing herself eagerly, ever more eagerly into his warm, wonderful mouth. Severus slipped one finger easily into her vagina, then followed with a second finger, slowly and gently moving his fingers in and out. He slipped in a third finger now, and pressed his long tongue through her folds, licking deeply, again and again, fingers in and out, tongue up and down, as Hermione moaned louder, and moved more frantically.

Feeling for her with his mind, he judged when, and took her little clitoris in his mouth and gently sucked, then flattened his tongue against it as she bucked and began to come, loudly, wildly. When her movements slowed, he slid up her body and took her into his arms, kissing her deeply with her own essence on his lips and tongue.

Hermione clung to her lover in the aftermath of the cataclysm that had been her first orgasm with him, joined to him in body by contact, in soul by the Enchantment, and in mind by Legilimency, and she wanted to feel the torrent move like a tide through his body, too. She reached for his erection, and he caught her hand, gently pressing it upward until her arm was extended over her head, with his hand imprisoning it just above her elbow; he sucked a nipple into his mouth, and caught her other hand in the same way as it headed south. He covered her now, with her arms pinned to the bed and his cock throbbing against her belly. As he looked down at her, he saw her looking at the glistening head of his erection, and he shuddered at the sight of her licking her lips.

"No," he whispered to her hoarsely.

Hermione shifted beneath him, a gentle rolling motion with her hips, back and forth. "No to my hands... no to my mouth... what does a girl have to do around here to get a yes from you?"

Once again, she felt Severus reach for her mind and pull her to him. His fingers were now entwined with hers as he positioned himself between her thighs and kissed her mouth.

"Spread your legs for me," he whispered to her.

The pulsing tide was increasing; they were breathing now as one. Hermione spread her legs, and she felt one hand leave hers as he reached down to probe her with his fingers, then he placed his erection at her opening.

_Relax_, he said in her mind, and he pressed the head of his cock inside her. Her answering moan made it difficult for him not to push all the way in. For a virgin, the most discomfort came from tense vaginal muscles unused to invasion. With an iron will, Severus kept himself from moving, allowing her to become accustomed to him. Then she shocked them both by moving her hips up, impaling herself more fully on him. Taking her up on the invitation, he thrust forward more, until he was halfway sheathed. From within her mind, he could feel the discomfort at the unaccustomed fullness, but her triumphant _Yes! _from within their joined minds drove him to kiss her mouth. He moved his hips the slightest bit, pulling almost out, and slid back in halfway.

Hungrily, Hermione thrust up, taking more of him. When she heard his groaned, "Oh yes, oh, _fuck_," she pushed again and wrapped her legs around him, this time taking all of him.

Severus looked into her brown eyes, brimming in tears, and because he was saturated with her thoughts, he knew that the tears were transcendence, not pain. He put his lips by her ear, and he said, "Many, many times, for the rest of our lives, I will be buried inside of you just like this, and many, many times, it will be more pleasurable." Slowly and rhythmically, he began to move back and forth, in and out, creating that unutterable friction that drives the human race. "No matter how many times I fuck you –" she shuddered as he said it, beginning to move with him, increasing the tempo, "I will remember this time, because it will also be the first time –" he slipped a hand between them and touched her clitoris eliciting a gasp, "that I ever said –" and his fingers moved in a circular motion, bringing her right back to the edge with him, "I love you, Hermione."

And she screamed his name with her orgasm, moving against him without inhibition, meeting his hip movements thrust for thrust, until he ejaculated deeply inside of her, and he kept moving until the last tremor of his climax, repeating over and again into her ear, "I. Love. You. I. Love. You."

* * *

He had shifted enough to the side that he was no longer on top of her, and they were tangled together in a heap of legs and arms, sticky and satiated, drifting in sleep. Then there was a thumping sound, which became thudding, coming from the next room, just on the other side of the wall. It sounded like a piece of furniture repeatedly bumping into the wall. Hermione roused from slumber and cocked her head to one side as she considered the possibilities, and realization slowly dawned. She looked over at Severus, who was already watching her with a small, crooked smile.

"The sodding fool forgot the Silencing Charm," he commented.

Almost immediately, inaudible voices, one a low growl, the other a higher chant, began. Severus rolled over to retrieve his wand with a small groan. "But _we_ cast a Silencing Charm," Hermione protested as he pulled away from her.

"That keeps noises we make from being heard; it doesn't keep us from hearing other people's noise." Gathering his wits about him, Severus sat up and warded the room with a Soundproofing Charm. "Can't do a thing for the people in the room on the other side of them," he said.

Hermione sat up too, pressing herself against his back. "The Legilimency spell is gone," she mourned and pressed her lips to his shoulder.

Severus turned in her arms, surveying her dishevelment with pleasure. "The Enchantment isn't gone," he observed, capturing one of her hands and pressing it, palm to palm. They gazed into each other's eyes, feeling the coursing power flowing between them.

Hermione felt light-headed with her desire for him. "Is it always going to be this strong?" she wondered out loud, trailing her free hand down his throat, to his chest, to his belly, to his stirring cock.

"I hope so," he growled, beginning to pull the pins that held her hair, tossing them carelessly onto the floor before pressing her back onto the pillows with one hand tangled in her long curls, and rabidly devouring her mouth.

* * *

The next time she woke, it was near dawn. She felt the soreness in her lower regions with a certain satisfaction and reached for him with her arms. He was gone, the pillow where his head had lain indented but empty. Feeling abandoned, she sat up and switched on the lamp; she could hear the shower running. She went into the bathroom quietly and was pleased to hear him singing softly to himself in a pleasant baritone.

"Severus, I'm coming into the shower," she said and slipped past the plastic curtain.

He was standing with his back to the showerhead, rinsing her shampoo from his hair. Swiftly, he pulled her into his arms, kissing her mouth. "How did you know to warn me before you entered?" he asked as he ended the kiss.

Hermione chuckled, sliding her arms around his soap-slick body and letting her hands slip down to his delicious arse. "I saw Sirius Black come up behind you in the hallway at Grimmauld Place one time," she told him. "The clock was chiming the hour, so you didn't hear him. When the chime stopped, he continued walking, and you slammed him against the wall with your wand at his throat so fast it made my head spin. He shouted something really foul at you, and Mrs. Black's portrait woke up and the drapes flew open and she started screeching about blood traitors..." Hermione squeezed his arse cheeks and licked a nipple. "I warned you because I want to live to shag again..."

Severus picked up the soap and began to lather her body. "You do realize I'm forty years old?" he inquired conversationally.

Hermione released his bum to grasp his stirring cock and bring him to a full erection with three judicious strokes of her increasingly knowledgeable hand. "Yes, love, but how old is that in dog years?"

* * *

The sun was rising now over the deserted beach. Hermione and Severus walked the sand in their bare feet, allowing the morning tide to wash over their toes, her arm about his waist, and his arm about her shoulders.

"I never knew the world was this beautiful," Hermione said quietly, looking at the rosy dawn sky.

"The world hasn't changed, Pet," Severus replied.

Hermione stopped walking, and pressed herself against him, holding him tightly, clinging as she had in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. "Call me that again," she said into the white of his dress shirt.

Severus grasped the nape of her neck, under the heavy hair still damp from their earlier shower, and used his other hand to tip her chin, so that he was looking into her eyes. "Pet. My precious, beautiful Pet." He watched the beloved brown eyes tear up and moved the hand from her chin to her cheek, where he swiped a tear with his thumb, then brought the thumb to his lips to taste the saltiness.

She shivered against him, then reached her arms up to pull his head down to hers for a sweet, searing kiss. "I love you, Severus," she said against his lips.

"...and about time you said it, too," he answered, scooping her up and heading back to the privacy of the room.

* * *

They slept until noon and woke up ravenous.

Grudgingly, they pulled clothes on to brave the outside world. As Hermione was struggling to get a brush through her tangled curls, the French doors rattled, and Tonks' and Lupin's voices came through.

"You _have_ to eat!"

Severus opened the door, eyeing the duo sardonically. "Can I be of assistance?" he asked.

Lupin held up bags. "Two words, mate. Chinese food."

Severus stepped back and made a sweeping gesture with his arm. "By all means, enter."

They spread the cardboard boxes across the dresser and filled their plates greedily. Tonks delved into the sack she was carrying and brought out iced bottles of beer. She and Lupin settled on one bed, while Hermione and Severus took up residence on the bed they had shared. There were several minutes of uninterrupted chewing and swallowing. Finally, Lupin pulled out another bottle of beer and twisted the top off, giving Severus and Hermione a bland look.

"Sleep well?" he inquired.

Severus glared at him. "Two words, Lupin."

"Yes, Severus? And those two words are..."

"Silencing Charm."

Hermione began to laugh, and Tonks inhaled part of a dumpling and began to cough.

Lupin patted her helpfully on the back and looked chagrined as he said, "Did I forget?"

"How you expect anyone to sleep through that ruckus is beyond me." Severus gave Lupin a sneer and went back to his food.

Lupin capitulated and changed the subject. "What are our plans for the rest of the day?"

Severus raised a brow at him. "I don't know what your plans are, Lupin. Hermione and I are planning to have a swim, a nap, and dinner."

"Another nap?" Tonks mouthed at Hermione, who giggled.

"Shall we finish up our mini-break at the pub where we started?" Lupin suggested.

Hermione spoke up. "Yes, let's. It's a lovely pub."

Severus' lips quirked into a half-smile as he looked at her. "As you wish. Dinner at the pub." He turned a scowl on Lupin. "Provided we all make it out of our rooms, of course."

Lupin rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Hey, I'm forty years old."

Tonks leaned over to Hermione. "Forty looks good on some people, whaddaya say?"

"Fabulous," Hermione breathed, looking at Severus, who was asking Lupin, "But how old is that in wolf years?"

* * *

Lupin and Hermione cleared away the remnants of their meal while Severus and Tonks moved their belongings to one another's rooms. Then they all changed into their swimsuits, swallowed sunscreen potions, and met outdoors. Severus and Hermione settled side by side in the wrought iron terrace chairs, while Lupin and Tonks walked down the beach and splashed out into the water.

Hermione was smiling upon the spectacle of her happy friends when she was reminded of her own happiness by Severus leaning over to her. "Do you think they suspect?"

Hermione giggled at him, then leaned into a relatively chaste kiss. Pulling back from him, a thought came to her, and she said, "Severus, what are we going to do?"

He stroked one finger down her cheek. "I was wondering when you were going to think of that."

She twisted around, looking at him seriously. "We've still got a symposium to plan, and I can't think straight when I'm sitting next to you. When I'm in the next room from you, all I can think about is being back with you. How can I work like this?"

Severus gently stroked her arm. "It's like the beginning of any love affair, Pet. In the beginning, all you think about is being with the other person. The difference with us is that the Enchantment drives us. Even for Enchanted couples, though, the initial furor calms down to a dull roar, so that they can get on with their lives." He studied her face for a moment, then said diffidently, "What do you _want_ to do?"

Hermione took his hand and nursed it to her cheek before turning it to kiss his palm. "In a perfect world, I would want to go away with you and shag you senseless until I could be in the same room with you without wetting myself and could leave a room without your company and not die inside because of it."

"I don't see why we can't do that," he said evenly, rubbing her full lower lip with the pad of his thumb and watching her beautiful eyes darken with desire.

"But the symposium," she said, nibbling on the thumb at her lips and trying to keep her mind on the conversation.

"...can easily be planned by Albus and Minerva. Trust me, Pet, when I say that they foresaw this event and have planned for it." He smiled sourly. "Albus carefully orchestrates his little schemes. He deliberately brought you to Hogwarts to put you in my path, didn't he?"

Hermione nodded her head, now sucking on his thumb and insinuating a hand beneath his shirt to flick a finger across his nipple.

Severus captured the hand beneath his open shirt and removed his thumb from her mouth, pinching her on the chin. "I refuse to put on a public display for these Muggles, Miss Granger," he warned her sternly, his lips twitching.

Hermione shifted in her seat, saying peevishly, "I wish you would stop _calling_ me that."

"That can be arranged, no doubt." He leaned toward her, his lips next to her ear. "What would you _rather_ I call you, Hermione?"

Something in his tone caused her to turn her face so that they were eye to eye. She searched his face questioningly, her heart suddenly racing.

His lazy smile caused a wild swooping sensation in her tummy. "Perhaps you would prefer me to call you mine? My wife? Mrs. Snape?"

Severus cursed the damn French doors at least once before he had Hermione safely inside the room, where she could forcibly undress him in privacy, while she explained the reasons why she thought he had the most marvelous ideas.

* * *

That evening in the pub was markedly different from their first time, two nights before. There was a melancholy, end-of-holiday air, offset by a luminous, beginning-of-romance aura. Both couples were largely lost in each other and mostly oblivious to the Muggles at surrounding tables. There was a good deal of eye-gazing and hand-holding. Lupin and Tonks were utterly agog to see Severus smiling and laughing with Hermione. Albus had told them what he hoped for, but they had not believed it would actually happen.

At one point, when Hermione went to the Ladies', and Severus dropped a tender kiss on her lips as he stood to let her past him, Tonks leaned forward and said, "_Is_ it the Enchantment, Severus?"

Severus curled his lip at her. "_Was_ it a 'mate from work' who gave you the keys to the inn, 'Dora?"

Lupin reached a hand across the table. "Congratulations, Severus. I hope that you will be very happy."

Severus took Lupin's hand with a rare smile. "Thank you, Remus. I hope you'll be happy, too."

Tonks goggled at him. "It has to be the Enchantment – it's bloody well changed your entire personality."

Severus stood to admit Hermione, who had returned from the loo. "'Dora says the Enchantment has changed my personality, Pet," he commented to her as she slid into her seat.

Hermione blushed charmingly. "Oh, did you tell them?"

Severus quirked an eyebrow at her. "I didn't have to tell them. Albus did."

Hermione turned to the conspirators with a shocked face. "Why didn't you tell me?" she demanded.

Tonks held up her hands defensively. "I swore to Albus I wouldn't say a word about it. Our only job was to get you away from Hogwarts and to bring up the Enchantment in conversation."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "I should wring that scrawny, ancient neck."

Lupin grinned at him wolfishly. "I imagine that scrawny, ancient duffer could still kick your arse, mate."

Severus replied with a sneer and a rude gesture that had both girls in gales of laughter.

Lupin pulled a handful of Muggle coins from his pocket. "Let's go spend these in the jukebox, 'Dora. I want to dance with you." He stood and held his hand out to Tonks, who flushed prettily and allowed herself to be led away.

Hermione leaned into Severus's arm and pressed a kiss on the pulse beneath his ear. "If you strangle Professor Dumbledore, who's going to perform our ceremony, hmm?"

Severus looked down into the warm brown eyes and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "We don't have to rush into anything, Pet. If you want a real wedding, we can take the time to plan it. A girl only gets married once - I want you to have what you want."

Hermione turned on him fiercely. "What I WANT is my honeymoon, thank you very much. I have never had some wedding fantasy –"

Severus interposed wickedly, "Well, tell me about the fantasies you _do_ have, Pet."

"– and I want to be married as quickly as we can. _Why_ can't we elope? All we need is a magistrate!"

Severus glowered at her and spoke sternly. "I will _not_ run off with you without so much as your parents' blessing. NO. We will follow our plan, speak to Albus, speak to your parents, send the owls to your friends, and we will plan a formal reception when we return from our honeymoon. No one is going to say that I swooped down on you and tricked you into anything untoward. This marriage will take place strictly on honorable terms, or it will not take place at all. Do I make myself plain?"

Hermione watched him with a wicked gleam. "Why does it make me so hot when you're bossy and arrogant?" she whispered.

"Behave yourself, young lady, or there will be no pudding for you." He gave her a wicked gleam of his own, and she sighed happily.

"Yes, sir," she replied meekly.

He stood and held out a hand to her. "Come – dance with me."

A lovely melody was beginning as they joined Lupin and Tonks on the dance floor. Tonks had her arms wrapped around Lupin's waist, her cheek pressed to his chest, her expression one of dreamy contentment. Lupin's head was bowed, his cheek pressed to the top of her head, holding her as if she were a china doll.

Severus pulled Hermione into his arms and they began to dance together, as they had the night – no, the lifetime – before. He knew it was dangerous, rushing into the future as they were, but the Enchantment made its own rules, and he had never been surer of anything in his life than he was of the rightness of their union.

* * *

The hour was growing late, and the Muggles had all gone home. Lupin poured the last of the pitcher of beer into their glasses and held his own aloft. "Here's to mini-breaks at the seaside," he said, echoing the toast from their first night. Four glasses touched and each of them drank.

Severus replaced his glass on the table, looking at the other couple with a speculative eye. "What are you two doing next Friday night?" he asked.

Tonks grinned at him. "Want to make another weekend of it?"

Hermione said, "Severus and I have discussed it, and we would very much like to have you both stand up with us for our wedding, as best man and maid of honor."

A good deal of laughing, crying, hugging, and backslapping followed this statement, but it was agreed that Tonks and Lupin were indeed available on Friday next to attend the nuptials. Soon afterward, they left the pub and began their slow way back to the inn, speaking desultorily of meeting for breakfast early in the morning before Apparating back to their workaday Monday morning lives.

Leaving Lupin and Tonks at the inn, Severus led Hermione down to the beach, where they stood looking at the starlight on the water. "It is very sudden, Pet, this change we are making in our lives."

Hermione looked up into his face, his habitual arrogant sneer replaced by a look of warm concern. "Severus, I have wanted this ever since that night on Grimmauld Place. I had no idea why I wanted it, other than suspecting I had developed an incurable yen to devour you whole – body and soul. Now I know we've been given this incredible gift in the Enchantment. I don't want to waste another moment of my life away from you – and I know that every moment I have spent away from you since we first touched has felt like wasted time."

"You are a woman who is driven by ambition, Hermione. How will you realize your career goals buried in the wilds of Scotland, married to a Potions master?"

Hermione stamped her foot, hands on her hips and a martial light in her eye. "Do I question you about how you're going to accomplish your career goals married to me? No, I do not. I accept that you are fully capable of determining what you want to do and how you're going to do it _while_ married to me. I don't _know_ what I'm going to do with my career right now, Severus, and I don't HAVE to know right now. I'm going to get married, have my honeymoon, get settled in my married life, and then I will look about me and decide how I wish to proceed with my career. That is my plan. Now, do we have to cast _Legilimens_ again for me to make my point?"

The Potions master stood in the starlight beside this incomparable woman, with whose love and everlasting passion the Fates had blessed him, and accepted yet again that he could not explain the workings of destiny. He placed his large, elegantly made hands on either side of her face, gazing into her eyes as they felt the ineffable magic of the Enchantment wash through them, synchronizing their very heartbeats, one to the other. "No, Hermione. That will not be necessary."

And she did not protest when he swept her up into his arms and carried her through the soft, summer night, to love her yet again.


	8. Chapter 8

Master of Enchantment

Book 2

Bast: Operation Kitty

A/N: The events of this story take place in two different time periods. The first is in 1998, after the events in the Prologue of Master of Enchantment. The second is in 2001, directly after the events in Chapter 6 of Master of Enchantment.

These characters and this incredible world are the creation of the incomparable JKR; only Bast is mine.

* * *

_Just Before Christmas, 1998_

The stern-faced elderly woman poured tea from the steaming pot into two cups and pushed one across the small round table to her companion.

"You have found a suitable candidate?" she inquired doubtfully.

"Yes. Perfect for the job, really." The old gentleman reached for a piece of Scottish shortbread, raising an eyebrow at the lady, as if to ask permission.

She waved an impatient hand at him. "I do _not_ like the notion of playing tricks on the boy. Surely he has suffered enough?"

The gentleman took a bite of his shortbread, the smile of pleasure on his face causing the woman to roll her eyes. "Albus, _do_ pay attention!"

"I beg your pardon, my dear, but I do so love your shortbread biscuits," he replied apologetically.

"She has owled me frequently since the beginning of the term, and she never fails to ask after him," the woman stated.

"She owls _him_, too," the man replied in a musing tone.

The lady set her teacup into its saucer with a spoon-rattling clatter. "_Why_ doesn't he answer her? She is obviously distraught!"

"We must be patient with him, Minerva. He has been alone for a very long time."

"But this idea of hers – what if he does harm to the animal? I cannot abide the thought of putting the creature into danger," the Animagus Transfiguration teacher said with some agitation.

Her companion noted that her unconscious facial twitch would have done any cat's whiskers proud.

"Please do not distress yourself, my dear. I will be watching – oh, very carefully. The animal will not be in any true danger."

The woman studied him for a moment and seemed to come to some decision. "So you will let her know we've set the plan in motion?" she asked, pouring herself another cup of tea.

"Yes, I owled her this morning. Operation Kitty has begun." The old man took another piece of shortbread with a pleased sigh.

* * *

Severus Snape threaded his somewhat unsteady way through the unlit corridors and down the staircases toward his dungeon quarters. He had spent years of his life making his way through this castle in the dark; his satisfying state of inebriation was no deterrent. In the week before Christmas, the corridors were virtually empty of students. The Dark Lord was vanquished and the Wizarding world had many things to be thankful for this holiday season. Severus, for one, was grateful for the three days he had just spent in London, haunting wonderful book stores and drinking good brandy in peace and quiet, away from his usual life at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Reaching his own door, he tapped the handle with his wand to unlock it and entered his rooms.

Another lazy wave of his wand lit the candles. He set his bag on the table by the door and proceeded into the sitting room, where a muttered "_Incendio_" lit the fire in the hearth. He was thinking that one more snifter of brandy before bed was a fine idea as he settled in the leather wingchair and picked up the book there, a very old copy of the collected works of Emily Dickenson.

With an oath, he surged out of his chair as something scurried across his feet – something furry, with a tail. His mind first leapt to Peter Pettigrew – was it a rat? With some confusion, he shook his head – Pettigrew had died in the war. Severus had seen him fall with his own eyes. He glanced somewhat nervously around the room; it occurred to him that perhaps a cup of tea would be more beneficial than additional alcohol tonight, if he was going to be seeing dead Marauders at every turn. As his heart rate returned to normal, he resumed his seat in the comfortable leather chair, which had been his own for so long that it was molded to the bends and angles of his body. He picked up the book again and opened the front cover – and a folded piece of parchment fell into his lap.

Severus sat for a moment simply staring at the parchment. He did not have to open it; he was fully cognizant of the contents of the missive. What was puzzling him was why the letter had been in the book of poetry, rather than bound with the others, behind the massive volume of _Botanica_ on the top bookshelf. It was just another letter from her, after all. This one was the best of the lot, his favorite of them all, in which she stated with all the passion of her nineteen years that her New Year's Resolution was to never think of him again.

With an ugly sneer, he crumpled the parchment and tossed it into the fire – from which it wafted back promptly to settle on the table at his elbow, smoothed itself out, and resumed its former appearance. His sneer became more pronounced – the silly girl had charmed all of the letters so that he could not destroy them. Fine. At least he could put them away so that he did not have to _see_ them.

Severus stood and reached for the stack of letters hidden behind the heaviest book on the shelf. There were over twenty of them – not that he had counted them, of course – and he kept them bound together with a faded scarlet ribbon, threaded with gold. Once he had the letters in his hands, he felt a strong urge to read through them, just one more time – suddenly, he dropped the letters with a strangled shout as Pettigrew began to climb his trouser leg.

Severus grabbed his wand from the table and shouted, "_Incandesce_!" The darkened room was immediately filled with the light of ten thousand candles, and Severus was able to see the creature that was using his wool trousers as a ladder.

It was a minute black kitten.

With great aversion, he peeled the tiny feline from his trouser leg and held it by the scruff of its neck at a distance from his body. It was purring loudly enough for him to feel the vibration up his wrist, into his arm.

He summoned a house-elf to have the kitten removed, instructing the elf to find out to whom the animal belonged and to return it.

Then he took his suddenly-sober self off to bed.

He was sound asleep when he felt a warm, reverberating presence next to his face, on his pillow. Severus went rigid. The war had not been long over, and his years of espionage had honed his self-control. With cat-like speed, his wand was in his hand, and in the light of his unspoken _Lumos_, he saw the kitten.

Sleeping.

On his pillow.

His rage undoubtedly emotionally scarred the house-elf on the receiving end of it. The elf, called Corky, stood wringing his hands pitifully, eyes averted, and repeated over and over that he had been unable to find the kitten's owner. He assured Severus that he had fixed a box for her in the kitchen with a soft blanket and a saucer of milk and had left her sleeping there when the kitchen elves retired for the night.

"Master Snape, sir," Corky squeaked, "perhaps the kitty is being magical." The elf dared to peek up at the nasty expression on Severus' face. "The kitty is not needing help to come to your rooms if she is being magical, sir," he explained.

Severus snarled a dismissal at the elf and placed the kitten in a small wooden crate he Summoned from the storeroom in his office. It still smelled of shrivelfigs, but would safely hold the animal until he could take it to the village the next day and dispose of it.

Ignoring the plaintive mewling, he put the crate in his study and placed a Containment Charm on it. Then he closed the study door, crossed the sitting room to his bed chamber, closed that door, and climbed back into his bed.

When he next woke with the kitten on his pillow, not thirty minutes after imprisoning her in his study, he shouted at her. She was quite tiny, just a ball of black fluff with a pointy face, enormous blue eyes, and an attitude. She did not so much as hop down from the bed when he began to scream at her. Instead, she began to wash herself while he ranted.

Exhausted, Severus stormed off to sleep on the sofa in the sitting room, leaving the kitten in possession of the pillow. When he later became aware of the ball of warmth curled up between his belly and the back of the sofa, he growled to himself and went back to sleep.

The next day, Severus closed the intruder into the wooden crate and personally took it to Hogsmeade. The animal Healer had an office in a shop, which sold pet supplies and which had a small selection of magical animals for sale.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but we don't operate a lost and found service," the Healer explained patiently.

"Then sell the thing!" Severus snapped. "It obviously has magical powers. Sell it; keep the gold for your trouble." Shoving the crate across the counter into the hands of the startled Healer, he stalked out of the shop.

It was really infuriating that the kitten beat him back to the castle.

Then the war of wills began. If he could not prevent the animal from frequenting his rooms, he could certainly ignore it. What he could not bring himself to do was to physically harm it. How easy it would be to simply feed it to one of Hagrid's Hippogriffs! But he didn't do it.

He began a campaign to freeze it out, instead.

Unwilling to share a pillow with the creature, he took to sleeping upright in the leather chair in his study, with his feet on the desk. The kitten would perch on the back of the chair, or if he was sleeping heavily enough, she would venture into his lap. Upon waking, he would stand, unceremoniously dumping her to the floor, and stomp off to shower. She followed him from room to room in his quarters, constantly in his presence. He refused to feed her, thinking that if she was capable of Apparating, then she could bloody well hunt for her own food. When he dined in his own rooms, she would sit on the floor in his small kitchen, watching each bite he put into his mouth.

He was relieved to find that she did not follow him to the meals he took in the Great Hall, nor did she shadow him up and down the castle corridors. It seemed that her powers of Apparition were confined to his quarters. When he realized this, he moved some things into an unused set of rooms and left the kitten in possession of the entire apartment.

A week passed before Corky, the house-elf, approached him again. This time, he was in his office. "Corky is begging your pardon, Master Snape, sir," Corky said, bowing so low that his nose nearly bumped the floor.

Severus looked up impatiently from the journal he was reading. "Well?" he demanded.

"The kitty is being sick, sir," the frightened house-elf squeaked. "The kitty is not eating, and the kitty is not sleeping, and the kitty is sitting by the door and waiting for Master Snape."

"The kitty can go the devil!" Severus snarled. "I do not _wish_ to have a cat!"

As the house-elf bowed his way out of the office, Severus went back to reading. It was a fascinating journal article concerning the preservation of eel eyes. He read the same paragraph three times and then thrust the periodical away from him with such violence that it flew off the desk, taking a stack of papers and two quills with it. Stomping out of the office, he slammed the door with unnecessary force and charged into his quarters, ready to remove the damned cat once and for all.

The kitten lay on the floor by the door. She was on her side; her eyes were nearly closed, and she was breathing very quickly in a sickly kind of pant. She appeared so malnourished that it seemed a miracle that she could draw breath. Panicked, Severus knelt and scooped her into his hands. She did not wake or make a sound. He carried her to the table in the small kitchen and laid her upon a tea towel. From his robes, he withdrew a glass dropper and turned to the sink for water to fill the dropper. Then, he carefully opened the tiny mouth and placed a few drops of water upon her tongue, stroking her throat to help her swallow.

He needed some of the vitamin solution he prepared for Madam Pomfrey each school year. Nestling the kitten carefully to his chest with one hand, he went back down the corridor to his office, then into his storeroom to retrieve the vitamin potion. He returned to his rooms, and placing the kitten back on the tea towel, he alternately fed her dribbles of water and vitamin drops, through the night.

Dawn found him dozing at the kitchen table, one long-fingered hand resting on the kitten's fur. She roused and mewled at him, but he did not wake until she began to clean the hand cradling her.

"Your tongue feels entirely repulsive," he informed her, unaccountably relieved to see his erstwhile tormentor on the mend.

Severus nursed the kitten carefully, making sure she ate and allowing her to sleep on his pillow each night. It was not an unpleasant sensation, having another living, breathing creature purring in his hair at night. He called her Bast, after the Egyptian cat goddess. She seldom, if ever, left his rooms, and few people knew of her existence.

* * *

_July, 2001_

Severus led the way down into the dungeons, his fair companion following in his wake. They were each dressed casually and they carried small bags. Severus unlocked the door into his quarters and stood back to let his guest enter first.

He placed his bag on the table by the door, then took the lady's bag and placed it beside his own. A swift dark figure moved past his legs and leapt onto the top of the bookcase near the door. The cat was black from her nose to the tip of her tail, with the triangular face and china blue eyes of a purebred Siamese. Her coat was sleek and glossy, pure black, more beautiful than any animal pelt Severus had ever seen. Severus inclined his head toward the feline, and she butted his face with her head, meowing and purring loudly.

"Good evening, Bast," Severus said conversationally.

With the grace of a panther, Bast sprang onto his shoulder, her claws finding purchase in the fabric of his Slytherin Quidditch tee-shirt; she continued to head-butt him, her purrs loud in his ear.

The lady at his side stood like a stone, staring at the spectacle of Severus Snape accepting the head-butting affections of an obviously besotted cat.

Severus reached out an arm and pulled the woman to his side. "Bast, this is Hermione."

The cat immediately ceased her attentions to Severus and turned her inscrutable gaze to Hermione. Stretching her long neck, she delicately sniffed Hermione's cheek, then her ear, and finally, her throat. Severus watched this display with sardonic amusement, one eyebrow quirked at Hermione's tense acceptance of the feline inspection.

Bast pulled back from Hermione's throat and meowed once at Severus before touching her wet little nose to the tip of his over-large one. After bestowing this mark of acceptance, she head-butted Hermione once, then sprang from Severus' shoulder to the shelf of a nearby bookcase. Her landing dislodged a bundle of papers, which tumbled to the floor. Severus quickly leaned to retrieve the bundled parchment while Hermione's attention was riveted on the cat.

"Severus, she's exquisite," Hermione breathed, extending one hand to stroke the exceptionally soft black fur.

"Yes, she's quite aware of that," he replied, surreptitiously holding one hand behind his back.

"I never imagined she would be so beautiful."

"Why should you? You didn't know I had a cat," he said dismissively, taking one step backwards in the direction of his study.

"Are you a good kitty?" she cooed to the cat as she scratched the lovely head.

"…contradiction in terms…" Severus muttered.

"Or are you a bad kitty?" Hermione continued, stroking the cat's throat.

"…that's just redundant…" Severus complained.

Hermione looked around, noticing his furtive movement away from her.

"The bathroom is directly through the bedroom," he informed her helpfully.

"I don't need the loo, thank you."

"And the kitchen is that way." He nodded to the opposite wall. "If you're thirsty, or…"

"Severus? Why are you trying to get rid of me?" She took a step towards him, noting his posture. "What's behind your back?"

Bast chose this moment to meow again; Severus scowled at her belligerently. The elegant Siamese continued to meow in a talkative way, until Severus resignedly produced the bundle from behind his back. "Just some papers…"

Hermione walked up to him and took the stack of letters, bound with a faded scarlet ribbon, from his hand. She stared at them, her finger tracing the gold threads in the grosgrain, then looked up searchingly into his face as she pushed on toward him.

"These are the letters I sent you from Bulgaria… the ones you never answered."

Severus nodded mutely, seemingly embarrassed.

"And this ribbon – I used it to tie my hair back in Advanced Potions… I thought I had lost it – I always kept it with my cauldron, and then it went missing one day."

Severus' pale face was flushing; his eyes were darting to the side, as if seeking out an avenue of escape. Hermione continued to advance on him, and he continued to retreat until he felt the wall at his back.

"You took my ribbon from my cauldron, didn't you? You took it in seventh year, before the night when we first touched –" she slapped the stack of letters against his chest, "you took it, and you kept it because you were _already_ interested in me!"

The limpid brown eyes gazing up into his discomfited face were like a catalyst; Severus pulled her against him with a jerk and buried one hand in the tangle of curls pouring down her back. "What exactly is your _point_?" he demanded, fastening his own intense scrutiny on her parted lips.

The packet of letters dropped from her suddenly nerveless fingers as the brushfire passion ignited between them. "I … I don't remember," she answered, winding her arms around his neck and swaying into his kiss.

The packet of unanswered letters landed on the floor at their feet; Bast jumped down beside the forgotten billets and curled her tapered tail about her, quite satisfied with her night's work.

* * *

The next morning, the elderly lady poured tea from the steaming pot into two china teacups and pushed one across the small table to her companion.

"Have you spoken to your parents yet?" she inquired, offering the younger woman a shortbread biscuit from the china plate before her.

"We're meeting them for lunch today," the young woman replied, taking a biscuit and nibbling on it. "I met the cat last night," she commented.

The stern face of her companion broke into an uncharacteristic smile. "Isn't she fine?" she said fondly.

"Wherever did you find her?"

"Albus found her, of course. Sometimes, it seems as if he can call creatures into being simply by his need of them." She shook her head disapprovingly. "I must confess, Hermione, that the cat was the very thing Severus needed, though I was opposed to the idea at the time. She was company to him, during that transition from spy to … human being." She shot a sharp glance at the younger woman. "Although there are those who still question the 'human' bit…"

A soft smile lit the eyes of the bride-to-be. "All of his bits are human, I promise you."

The elderly lady choked on her tea. "Miss Granger! Please keep your observations regarding Severus Snape's _bits_ to yourself!"

* * *

Severus woke in his own bed when the candles automatically illuminated, notifying him that breakfast would soon be served in the Great Hall. It occurred to him that he was naked beneath the sheets, and for a moment, he wondered why. Then the memories of the last four days flooded into his mind, and he rolled over to say good morning – but she was gone.

The note propped on her pillow informed him that she had gone for morning tea with Minerva McGonagall. He groaned when he remembered their itinerary for the day, which included lunch with her parents and an evening visit with "the boys" – Potter and Weasley. He pondered the dreaded components of each interview and found he could not decide which encounter he faced with more dismay.

Perceiving that he was _finally_ awake, Bast playfully launched herself at the agitated movements from under the covers; she received only a firm nudge from his foot for her troubles. Abandoning her game, she curled up beside him. Severus propped himself with the pillows and began to stroke her fur while she purred loudly.

Speaking conversationally, Severus said, "Bast, Hermione is coming to live with us. And, I want you to know, she has a cat named Crookshanks…"

* * *

A/N:  
Once upon a time I had a Siamese cat, who mated with an interesting, dark stranger – the Severus Snape of tomcats, I like to think. In the litter of little Siamese kittens was one pure black kitty, with the physical characteristics of a Siamese. My son, who was having an Anne Rice moment, named her The Kitten Lestat. Bast is based on Lestat, who became a special needs kitty after being attacked by an adult cat when she was nine weeks old; Lestat survived the assault, only to fall prey to a strange skin disorder at the age of 3. As my husband, the erstwhile Slytherin, always says, "Bad Kitty is redundant, and Good Kitty is a contradiction in terms." Lestat's attitude was, "You may worship me, if you wish." This story is my tribute to her; she is undoubtedly climbing the curtains up in Kitty Heaven.


	9. Chapter 9

Master of Enchantment

Book 2

ii. Meet the Parents

They met in her Hogwarts rooms, each of them freshly washed and groomed. They agreed upon Muggle dress for this excursion; Hermione, mainly because it was still so hot, and Severus, because he felt the Grangers would be less reminded of his anomaly if he were not swathed in black robes.

She greeted him at the door with a dazzling smile and pulled him into her tiny sitting room, only to begin snogging him rather wildly. Severus quickly put a stop to her exploratory groping; she sighed against him with resigned acceptance when she heard his dark chuckle.

"Shall we start this outing off with a bang by showing up late and smelling of sex? _That_ would certainly impress them."

"You're right." She turned from him and began to reapply her lip-gloss at the mirror over her love seat.

"I am always right." He crossed his arms over his chest and curled his lip at her.

"...always a right _pain_," she muttered to the mirror.

"Speak up, dearie, I don't think he heard you," the mirror advised her helpfully.

"Oh, sod off," she said crossly, recapping her cosmetic and returning it to her pocket.

Severus grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him, surveying her critically. "Always look your opponent in the eye when delivering a verbal insult," he instructed, using the pad of his thumb to remove a dot of colour from the corner of her mouth. "It is far more intimidating for the recipient as well as far more satisfactory for you."

She gazed up at him in amazement. "Do you actually have all of this stuff written _down_ somewhere?"

Severus quirked an eyebrow at her. "Do you doubt it?" he inquired provocatively.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Probably in the Slytherin House Handbook," she sniped.

"Excellent, Miss Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor. Shall we go and ask your parents if we can get married, now?"

* * *

The Grangers greeted Severus with unreserved pleasure, each shaking his hand in turn and thanking him for the way he had protected their daughter and saved the life of Harry Potter in the final showdown with the Dark Lord.

"You received a commendation from the Queen, I understand?" Herman Granger asked, gesturing for Severus to precede him into the dining room.

"Very quietly, yes. Along with Professor Dumbledore and Potter, of course," Severus answered politely, ill at ease, as ever, with the mention of his honours.

"And, more importantly in the wizarding world, he also received the Order of Merlin, First Class," Hermione interpolated proudly, her eyes glowing as they rested on his face.

Severus merely bowed his head in acknowledgement and thanked Merlin when the conversation moved on to the health and wellness of the elder Grangers.

Now, settled around the dining room table, the remains of their light lunch of salads still before them, the topic came around to the reason for their visit.

Jane Granger handed Severus a cup of freshly brewed coffee and resumed her seat, beginning to stir milk into her own cup. "Please, tell us – what is the dire emergency that necessitated this meeting?" Her smile was encouraging, but it was possible to see the faint worry in her eyes.

Severus glanced at Hermione, his own courage quailing in the face of this question as it had never qualled under the red eyes of Lord Voldemort. Hermione, however, took the lead with the ever-vaunted Gryffindor courage.

"Mum – Daddy – Severus and I are engaged to be married – and we would like to have the ceremony this Friday night."

Severus realised that he was clutching the glass phial in his trousers pocket, which contained one of his more successful restoratives for persons who had fainted dead away. He was relieved to see that Jane Granger did not appear to be faint in the least; Herman, however, was looking a little bit green about the gills.

"Plainly, this is rather … sudden?" Jane said, in a rather shaky voice.

"I know that it _seems_ sudden, Mum, but it really isn't," Hermione said. "Severus and I have been ... involved ... for three years, now."

Severus resisted the urge to cover his eyes with his hand. Somehow, the words they had rehearsed together did not sound terribly reassuring at this moment as she spoke them to her parents. Now she was telling them, in effect, that her nasty old teacher had nourished designs upon her when she was still a teenager. Dimly, he wondered why he had neglected to slip a migraine cure into his pocket.

Jane continued in her calmly reasonable tone, "But, Hermione – surely you used to tell us that Professor Snape was your _least_ favourite teacher?" She smiled kindly at Severus. "No offence to you, of course, Professor..."

Severus once again inclined his head in acceptance of her courtesy. Cautiously, he cast a glance over at Herman, who looked as if he had swallowed a dose of undiluted bubotuber pus. It had apparently blistered his tongue right out of his head, and it also appeared to be having a bad effect on his lungs, as he seemed to be having a difficult time catching his breath.

Hermione took a deep breath. "Mum and Daddy – I need to tell you about the Enchantment."

Miraculously, Jane's brow cleared, and Herman actually spoke up. "We know all about the Enchantment, dumpling," he told his daughter.

Diverted, Severus turned a sardonic eye on Hermione, his lips soundlessly repeating, "_Dumpling_?"

Her withering glare seemed to contain the warning, "Don't even _think_ about it."

Her mother stood suddenly and bustled into the sitting room, returning moments later with a small book, bound in handsome brown leather. She offered the book to Hermione, saying, "This lovely little book is all about the Enchantment. That delightful Professor Dumbledore came to see us over Christmas, and he brought it as a gift." Jane's face took on a contemplative look. "I was ever so surprised to see him; we had met him at school functions, of course, but he had never come to visit us at home before. Well, once I had the book unwrapped, I just couldn't rest until I had read it all, right through to the end. And your Da' read it too, didn't you, Herman?"

Herman Granger nodded his head with some fervour. "Well, the Professor was good enough to bring it to us, wasn't he? And it was only polite to give it a read."

Hermione sat, the wind taken from her sails by this sudden burst of wizardly erudition from her utterly Muggle parents. "But, Daddy – you never read anything but dental journals and sporting magazines!" she protested faintly.

A puzzled frown appeared on Herman's face. "That's true enough, sweeting. But this was only a little book, and jolly good reading I found it. In fact, I've read it through twice," he added with a touch of bemusement.

Jane nodded enthusiastically. "I've read it three or four times, I've lost count."

Severus allowed his teeth to release their grip on the inside of his cheek. Holding out one long-fingered hand, he said, "May I look at it, Pet?"

Hermione handed it over soundlessly, a hint of understanding beginning to dawn on her.

"Then Professor Dumbledore came back to see us at Easter," Jane said, watching Severus tap the small book with his wand, while muttering quietly to himself.

"He came back?" Hermione repeated.

"Yes, and he brought that dear Professor McGonagall with him. We sat over tea and had the nicest conversation about the Enchantment." Jane looked over at her husband, who was watching Severus as if he were demonstrating some new dental technique. "Your Da' even wondered why Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore aren't a couple themselves, didn't you, Herman?"

"...because they scarcely have time left over from their MEDDLING," Severus snarled.

Herman and Jane jumped at this change in tone from their purported son-in-law-to-be, who was very nearly a contemporary of their own.

Severus passed the book back to Hermione. "It's a simple Compelling Charm," he commented to her.

Hermione took the book back into her own hands, noticing now the faint pull she felt – an urge to open the book and find out what the pages had to say to her. A wicked smile flickered across her face, and she cast Severus a look of pure mischief.

His lips twitched until he relented in an answering gleam. "Yes, Pet, the very same charm you used on your letters to me."

Jane and Herman watched this by-play with mixed emotions; clearly, these two were very much in love. Sadly, one of the two was their only child, who had yet to see her twenty-second birthday. Herman spoke quietly, as if in respect for the palpable vibration between the two lovers before him. "But does there need to be such haste?"

Severus stopped in the act of pressing a kiss to Hermione's hand, now warmly clasped in his much larger one, to answer her father. "No, Mr. Granger, there is no need for haste. It is, however, Hermione's wish to be married, to have our honeymoon and to settle into our married life before the new term of school begins on September first. And it is _my_ wish to procure for her whatsoever her heart desires." He completed this sentence while making firm eye contact with Hermione's father. He could not see the look of adoration shining from Hermione's eyes, but both of her parents saw it and realised with sinking hearts that they were about to give way on this most important issue.

"So ... you and Hermione have the Enchantment between you, Severus?" Jane asked, reaching across to place her hand on top of their joined hands.

Severus turned his onyx eyes to Jane, covering her hand with his free hand and applying a light pressure. "Can you not feel it?" he inquired gently.

Sudden tears flooded her mother's eyes, and Hermione was out of her chair and on her knees before her mother, pressing her face to her mother's knees. "Oh, please don't cry, Mum," she whispered.

Jane began to caress the tumbled curls in her lap, saying in a choked, if reassuring voice, "How can I not cry to see you so happy and to be able to FEEL how happy you are? How many mums all over the world would be happier to see their daughters married if they could be so sure of their son-in-law's love?" Jane said these last words while looking quietly into Severus's eyes.

Severus bravely held the gaze of his love's mother, nodding once in validation of her words. For his trouble, he received a glowing smile from Jane Granger; with a dawning appreciation, he saw from whom Hermione had inherited that latent incandescence.

Jane stood and encouraged her daughter to rise. She wrapped a loving arm about Hermione's waist as she led the way to the stairs, saying, "It seems as if we had better pull my wedding gown out of lavender and see what alterations need to be made..."

* * *

The exit of the women left Severus with the last hurdle he must cross in this encounter. Squaring his shoulders and straightening his spine, he turned back to Herman Granger, mentally preparing for The Father Interrogation.

Herman sat for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Then he stood and said, "Let's remove to my study, shall we?"

Severus complied willingly, allowing the much shorter man to direct him into a smaller room, panelled in a dark wood and smelling pleasantly of cigar smoke. Mr. Granger indicated that Severus should be seated in a fine leather wingback chair, then crossed to the sideboard and picked up a decanter. "Brandy or whisky?" he inquired.

"Brandy," Severus replied, viewing the well-stocked bookcases with approval.

Dr. Granger handed Severus a tumbler of brandy and seated himself behind the massive mahogany desk. "I'm sure you understand it is my duty to make some inquiries," he said.

Severus replied, "I certainly do understand that, Mr. Granger."

The other man waved his hand. "I think we had best dispense with the formality, Severus; we are about to become family."

"As you wish, Herman."

"May I inquire as to your age?"

"I was forty-one in January," Severus informed him.

Herman nodded. "Janie and I are fifty-two; we wanted to have our practice established before we started our family." He shot the younger man a look from under his lowered brows. "Do you not foresee any problems in marrying a woman young enough to be your own daughter?"

"I am not so foolish as to imagine that any marriage will be devoid of conflict, Herman. One point of contention may very well be our age difference. It may allay your fears somewhat to know that Hermione and I are of very similar temperament. We are both bookish and we share a disinclination for a great deal of social interaction." It was the nicest way he could devise to say that they were too intelligent to require or relish the company of the dunderheads who comprised ninety-nine percent of the rest of the world.

Herman had to nod his head in agreement; it was apparent that this strange man did indeed understand his swotty child. Making a quick recovery, he came back with the hardest question of all.

"What are your means? How do you intend to provide for my daughter?"

Severus had carefully prepared for this one.

"I have a small independence, including a house in Wiltshire with a bit of land, which I inherited from my mother. That will be our permanent residence. I also have my salary from my teaching position at Hogwarts and my rooms there, which will be our primary residence during the school year. Additionally, I have income from published works, as well as income from licensed potions, which are brewed commercially. Financially, Hermione will be secure."

Severus took a mouthful of brandy, trying very hard to look like a man who has just presented an inarguable position, rather than like a schoolboy who has just been fresh with his teacher.

Herman found himself at a bit of a loss for words. It is one thing to skewer a school teacher to the wall about how he intends to provide for your daughter; it is a different matter entirely to question a bona fide war hero who appears to be independently comfortable, if not wealthy. Before he could open his mouth, the professor spoke again.

"I have instructed my man of business to draw up a formal statement of my assets for your perusal, Mr. Granger. I am willing to sign any type of contractual agreement that is customary in Muggle marriages."

"You most certainly will NOT," Hermione interjected from the doorway behind him.

She advanced into the room, her mother following behind her, and stood between Severus and her father with her hands on her denim-clad hips. "Prenuptial agreements are for rich people. I'm not rich, so that's not an issue."

Severus quelled her with an admonitory tone and a stern look. "Your parents will be fully satisfied with the arrangements concerning our marriage before it takes place, Hermione. _All_ of the arrangements. If you wish to interfere in said arrangements, please be my guest – providing you understand that the wedding will take place only when your parents are _completely_ satisfied."

Hermione was gaping, with an unattractively opened mouth, at her betrothed, while he stared her down unflinchingly. Behind her back, her father met her mother's eyes, and the two of them bit their lips and struggled to keep from expressing their amusement – as well as their unqualified amazement at this masterful demonstration of how to bring Hermione to a screeching halt without stirring from one's chair, or raising one's voice. Jane was the first to lose control of her emotions, and her outburst of laughter created the same reaction in her spouse by an apparent domino effect. Turning her back on Severus, Hermione looked back and forth from her mum to her dad.

"What? What is so bloody funny?"

Herman mopped his streaming face with his pocket handkerchief, saying, "Oh, nothing, dumpling. It just does a body good to see you brought up short that way." Herman pocketed his handkerchief and stood, extending his hand to the younger man across the desk. "Severus, you have our blessing. There won't be a need for any contracts. I have read about the Enchantment, and I've seen you handle our little spitfire like a man born to take on the job. God bless you, son, and welcome to the family."

Severus stood with alacrity and set his beloved gently aside as he shook her father's hand. "Thank you, Herman. Please know that I fully appreciate the honour you do me by accepting my suit for your daughter's hand."

Jane stepped up then and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to Severus's cheek. "I know you'll take good care of one another," she said softly.

Herman came from behind his desk to envelop his child in a fatherly hug, adjuring her to be a good girl and to do as Severus told her, while Jane reminded her to drop the dress with Madam Malkin for alterations, without delay. With further promises to keep in close daily contact regarding the wedding details, Hermione and Severus took leave of her parents, carrying away not only a carefully packed wedding gown, but also the Grangers' warmest blessings.

* * *

As they strolled back up to the castle from the Apparation point, Hermione tucked her hand into Severus's elbow. "That went well," she offered.

"Well, considering that Albus and Minerva spent six months laying the groundwork, I can't say I'm surprised, Pet."

"I can't believe my dad is already telling me to obey _you_!"

"He's a wise man, your father. Obviously, _he_ knows I'm always right."

"... a right pain in the _arse_, maybe," came the muttered reply.

"I can see that some one-on-one tutoring will be required to teach you the proper way to deliver an insult," Severus said, stepping through the great oak doors and pressing Hermione up against the stone wall of the entrance hall.

"Severus!" she expostulated, looking around him for witnesses.

"Hermione!" he mocked back at her before fiercely claiming her mouth in a lip-bruising kiss.

Some indefinable time later, he lifted his head to gaze into her passion-smudged eyes. "Only a love beyond my previous comprehension would have made that little jaunt conceivable," he said to her, his voice hoarse with desire.

Hermione held onto his biceps with her hands, still too overcome by the power of the Enchantment to be able to function very well once in the throes of it. Severus took a moment to let his burning eyes devour her face – her unfocused gaze, her delicious mouth – and to feel the pounding of the Enchantment that focussed all of their energies upon each other. Cursing, not for the first time, the inability to Apparate within the castle, he guided her to her rooms, which were closer than his, and settled her upon the edge of the bed while he began to strip out of his clothes.

Hermione recovered some part of her consciousness, noting the time on the clock on her bedside table.

"Severus!" she protested weakly, as he unbelted his trousers and stepped out of them and his briefs in one motion. "The time! The boys will be here in an hour." Her voice dwindled to a whisper as he advanced upon her and began to undress her with impatient competence.

"Potter and Weasley can respect their betters and wait their turn," he replied savagely. "I have earned a reward, my Pet, and I intend to _have_ it, do you understand me?"

He jerked her naked body into his own naked lap, his hands roaming her flesh relentlessly, his voice harsh in her ears, as he reiterated his possession of her with each caress.

With all thought of interruptions burned from her mind, Hermione twisted in his lap to straddle his hips, pressing his shoulders down until his back was flat on her mattress; with a twist of his own, he slid into the warmth of her core, and they groaned as with one voice.

"Yes, Severus, my darling, only love – I think we understand one another very well."

* * *

Oddly enough, the boys _did_ have to wait.


	10. Chapter 10

Master of Enchantment

Book 2

iii. Meet the Boys

Harry took another swallow from his pint and craned his neck to look out the window of the Three Broomsticks.

"Where is she?" he muttered, half to himself.

Ron sipped his firewhisky and watched Madam Rosmerta cross the room. "You know witches, mate. Add twenty minutes minimum to any time they give you." He tore his eyes away from the comely pub owner and grinned at his closest friend.

"Hermione's not like that, though," Harry objected, running a hand through his untidy shock of black hair. "She's never acted like a _girly_ girl."

Ron shrugged. "Ask me, it's time she _started_ to act like a girly girl. How is she ever going to get a man bossing everyone around the way she does?" He took another drink of his firewhisky, with a reminiscent look in his eyes. "She can be downright scary. You don't ever want to try to make out with her; she'll be telling you how to do it."

Harry pressed his lips together for a moment, striving to retain control of his urge to laugh. "I guess that _would_ be kind of scary," he said neutrally. He would never forget the tortuous months when Ron and Hermione had tried to be a couple, back in the summer after sixth year, which carried on into the beginning weeks of their first seventh year term. Their usual constant bickering had escalated into something resembling a military action, where the only modes of operation were blitz attack and cold war. Harry and the other seventh year Gryffindors had taken cover and prayed for the hostilities to end. The whole affair had put Harry off girls and romance for some time.

He decided to change the subject. "Ginny says the wedding plans are coming right along," he commented.

"Does she?" Ron asked with mild interest. "I guess it's a good thing that Mum is there to help with the planning, since Luna's mum has passed on."

"Ginny says that since your mum was on such a tight budget planning our wedding, that she really has more – erm – _scope_ for her ideas this time around."

Ron frowned into his glass of firewhisky, paying scant attention to the conversation. "Nah, we're having a small wedding; just family and close friends."

Harry glanced worriedly at his best friend. "Is that what Luna tells you?" he asked carefully.

Ron shrugged. "It's what we agreed on in the beginning. She talks about it, mate, but I don't pay it much mind. Nod, agree every now and then, read the Quidditch scores in the _Daily Prophet_..."

Harry considered leaving it alone, as retreat can often be considered the better part of valour. But Ron was his best friend, and it was his duty to not allow him to be blindsided. "You might want to start paying attention to what Luna tells you about the wedding, mate."

Ron looked up at him. "Why?"

"You remember that Professor Lockhart got well enough to leave St. Mungo's, right?"

Ron was looking bewildered. "What's that got to do with my wedding?"

"Well, he's taken to writing books about interior decorating and party planning," Harry explained patiently.

Ron was still giving him a "what are you on about" kind of look.

"...and your mum has hired him as your wedding consultant."

There was a loud crash as Ron's chair hit the floor, and his glass of firewhisky shattered at his feet.

"She WOULDN'T!" he shouted.

In a flash, Madam Rosmerta was upon them with a broom and a dustpan in her hands and a martial light in her eyes.

"You know that you boys will always be welcome in my pub," she said, beginning to sweep up the shattered glass. "I'm sure we couldn't be more grateful for all you did to rid us of You-Know-Who," she added, finishing her sweep-up with a final ruthless swipe. "But that does _not_ give you the right to come in here, shouting and breaking things." She glared at them in her most effective Keep-the-Hogwarts-Students-in-Line way. "Now, sit down and behave, or I'll be telling your wife, Harry Potter, and your mum and your girlfriend, Ronald Weasley, exactly how you carried on!"

She whirled and marched away from them, leaving them both with their mouths agape.

"...but _I_ didn't _do_ anything!" Harry protested indignantly, stung by the threat to tell his wife.

Ron righted his chair and sat down, shaking his head. "They are all barking mad, mate. Every single last one of them. We love them, and we've got to have them, but they are _all_ mental."

Harry nodded in agreement before taking a deep breath and returning to the subject at hand. "Brace yourself, Ron, and pay attention. I'm going to tell you about the flocks of pink doves, the cherubs raining twinkling pink confetti upon your guests – and by the way, the number of names on your guest list is approaching the population of Hogsmeade itself. There will also be colour-coordinated programmes engraved with your names that sing a song especially composed for the occasion by Lockhart himself – and which throw in a quick advert for his latest book after the last verse..."

* * *

Hermione shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket and hurried down the path to the castle gates and the road into Hogsmeade. Severus accompanied her, his long legs moving easily over the ground, and frowned at her agitation.

"So much fuss for the Boy Who Lived and Lived and Lived," he grumbled.

"You _don't_ have to come with me, Severus. I told you that." Hermione quickened her pace, glancing again at her wristwatch.

"And deny Potter and Weasley the chance to denigrate me to my face? That wouldn't be sporting of me, Pet."

She hunched a shoulder at him, keeping her face averted as she walked. "You're acting like a right prat and have been these last thirty minutes."

Severus grasped her arm gently and pulled her to a stop. She glowered at the ground and shifted away from him. He leaned in close to her ear. "My Pet, thirty minutes ago you were naked in my arms and begging me not to stop." He took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up. "Smile for me. I will endeavour to behave like an adult, which is more than you can say for Potter or Weasley."

Hermione gave him half a smile. "Sometimes you can be completely impossible, you know," she said, turning and continuing on her way.

"But it gives you a finer appreciation of me when I am only utterly objectionable," he reminded her. Severus was bantering with her, but he was also observing her unobtrusively, trying to ascertain her mood. Ever since they had scrambled out of bed and begun to throw their clothes on, she had been distant and distracted.

He continued on with her quietly for a space, watching the emotions flitting across her expressive face. He cursed himself for a fool, remembering his resolve, earlier in the day, to let her make this trek alone. As the day had worn on, he had found himself less and less willing to allow her out of his presence for an indefinite period of time. Resolutely, he decided to step out of this situation with as much of his dignity as he could salvage.

Just shy of the Three Broomsticks, Severus stopped and gently touched her shoulder. Hermione also stopped and turned to him rather impatiently. "What _is_ it, Severus? I am already so late!"

Severus reached around and placed the large palm of his hand on the nape of her neck, holding her head as he bent to press a sweet, lingering kiss on her lips, concentrating all of his considerable focus on the task at hand. When he felt that he had her complete, undivided attention, he ended the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers. "I'm going along to the Hog's Head for a pint, Pet. You can come find me there when you're finished here." He gave her neck a gentle squeeze and then walked away from her without a backward glance.

Hermione stood for a moment, feeling that ineffable sense of loss that assailed her whenever she and Severus parted and the Enchantment ceased to thrum through her blood. Her eyes tracked his progress as he walked away from her to turn down the side street upon which the Hog's Head Inn was located. His long legs carried him quickly; she hungrily absorbed his form in the snug black denims and lightweight green cotton shirt he wore until he moved out of her line of sight.

"Get a _grip_," she muttered to herself, tearing her gaze away from the place where she had last seen him. She gave herself a little shake and marched into the Three Broomsticks in a very businesslike way.

* * *

Severus meandered down to the Hog's Head Inn and pushed his way inside. Aberforth Dumbledore, the barkeep, eyed him askance when he spied the Muggle clothing. Severus snorted at this reaction and pulled coins from his pocket. "Pull a pint and hold your tongue," he grumbled at the older wizard.

He turned his back to the bar and looked around at the occupied tables. Deep in conversation in a dim corner, he spied Lupin and Tonks, their heads together and their hands clasped on the tabletop. Ignoring their obvious desire for privacy, he took his beer from Aberforth and walked over to their table, setting his glass down and sliding into a chair.

"Good evening," he said glumly.

Lupin surveyed Severus' dejected face with some amusement; Tonks looked more exasperated.

"Have a seat, Severus," she said, somewhat acerbically.

Lupin shot her a silencing glance and said pleasantly, "Hullo, Severus. Out for an evening stroll?"

Severus sipped his beer disconsolately. "Hermione's at the Three Broomsticks –"

"– with Harry and Ron, we know. We saw them in there waiting for her," Tonks supplied. "That's why we're _here_. To avoid company."

Severus nodded, gazing off into space. "I don't blame you a bit."

Tonks rolled her eyes, but her ready sense of humour was tickled by Severus' self-absorbed oblivion. She looked over at Lupin, biting her lip to keep from snickering; Lupin lifted her hand and kissed her fingertips. She lovingly stroked a finger over the scar marring his lower lip, completely diverted from the Slytherin drama queen across the table. Lupin nodded toward the back of the pub, where the bathrooms of questionable cleanliness were located. With a resigned sigh, Tonks excused herself and walked away from the table.

Severus watched her go, then looked over at Lupin, noting the lines of fatigue in his face. "Wearing you down, is she?" he inquired snidely.

Lupin pursed his lips and nodded. "You have _no_ idea," he said with feeling.

Severus raised his eyebrows. "Don't I?" he asked in some amusement.

The two Hogwarts professors, both still in Muggle dress after their weekend holiday with Tonks and Hermione, looked somewhat out-of-place in this all-wizard community. They proceeded to set themselves further apart when they startled the other patrons of the pub by erupting in a crack of laughter that went on for an oddly long time. Tonks, who was quietly conversing with Aberforth at the bar, smiled indulgently when she heard the sound, knowing that the two men were undoubtedly talking about their newly found – and much younger – girlfriends.

Severus recovered from the unaccustomed activity of laughing before Lupin had stopped his own chuckled aftershocks of mirth. Slanting a sneer at his one-time schoolboy enemy, and current best man of his wedding, Severus drawled, "And you thought it would be hard to keep up with them _dancing_..."

* * *

Harry leaned closer to Hermione, a look of stark concern on his face. "Hermione, have you had Dumbledore check you over for possible Dark spells? Or did Snape give you something unusual to drink just before you started to feel this way?" He pulled his wand from his belt, his green eyes fastened on the face of the girl he loved second only to Ginny. "I can do the check now; it's simple enough, and something we learned in Auror training."

Hermione responded to him with rank amazement. "How _dare_ you say something like that to me, Harry Potter!" she hissed. "Do you think, after all the time we spent training how to fight Voldemort and the Death Eaters, that I would be unable to detect some kind of _spell_ put on me to make me fall in love? Or that I would be stupid enough to drink an unknown substance?" She felt her indignation spiralling out of control and remembered her intention to remain calm and unmoved in the face of the objections she knew she must expect from Harry and Ron. After all, both of them had suffered under the scorn and disdain of Severus Snape for the last ten years of their lives; she could not expect them to change their perception of Severus in the blink of an eye, simply because she wanted it.

Harry sat back in his seat and put his wand away, looking slightly apologetic. "I didn't mean to insult you, Hermione. It's just ... Snape, of all people!"

Hermione looked over at Ron, wondering when he was going to pipe up with his undoubtedly infuriating reaction. He had been worrying her ever since she entered the Three Broomsticks; he had barely responded to her greeting, perfunctorily kissing her cheek when she hugged him. He had been sitting without speaking ever since; he hardly seemed to be focussing on what she was saying, and the look on his face was part horror and part indignation. She had expected him to be upset, but she had not expected him to be speechless.

"Harry, have you ever heard of the Enchantment?" she began, ready to tell the story that explained so much about her relationship with Severus.

Harry frowned. "Ginny told me about it once; it's a legend about a magical true love, right?"

"First of all, it's not a legend, but a scientifically verified phenomenon," Hermione lectured in her best teaching voice. "Muggles call it 'love at first sight,' but it's more like love at first touch. It _is_ rare, but it does exist, and Severus and I have been blessed with it." She saw comprehension growing in Harry's eyes as he listened to her. "The first time we touched was the night the Death Eaters went for my parents; Severus took me by the arm, just to steady me, and it was like being hit by the steam engine of the Hogwarts Express." A smile lit her face, and Harry had to smile a little bit too in response to her happiness. "So, we're going to be married, and the wedding is Friday night and I want both of you to be there. Will you come?" She looked from Harry to Ron, who still looked severely disturbed.

Harry gave Hermione his trademark grin. "Of course I'll come to your wedding, Hermione." He jabbed Ron in the side with his elbow. "Ron will be there too, won't you, mate?"

Ron started and glanced shamefaced from Harry to Hermione. "Yeah, I'll be there," he allowed, hoping it was not something too awful he had just agreed to do.

Hermione beamed at them. "Oh, I'm glad that's all sorted out," she exclaimed. Then her expression sobered, and she placed her hand on Harry's arm. "Harry, Remus told me something really sweet when he was explaining to me about the Enchantment. Your mum and dad, Lily and James, had the Enchantment. Remember how we wondered why she went from despising him to loving him?"

"But Sirius said it was because my dad got over himself a bit and calmed down," Harry objected, puzzling over this new information.

"I'm sure that was what got him close enough for the first touch to happen, anyway," Hermione said.

They sat quietly for a moment, as if in respect for Lily and James Potter and the Enchantment they had enjoyed for all too short a time.

Harry broke the silence. "Speaking of Remus, I could have sworn I saw him outside on the pavement, snogging Tonks, of all people – right in front of the Three Broomsticks! Has the entire world gone mad?"

"So it would appear, Mr. Potter."

All three of the Dream Team flinched at the sound of the sinister voice above them and looked up at Snape with somewhat guilty surprise.

"How do you _do_ that?" Hermione demanded in amusement, patting the seat of the empty chair between herself and Ron.

"If he told you that, he would have to kill you, Hermione. Severus has to keep his student-control tactics as a closely-held secret."

Now they all leaned to look around Severus and saw Lupin and Tonks behind him, their hands entwined. Harry stood quickly and reached out to shake hands with Lupin, then he turned and offered his hand to Severus.

"Congratulations, Professor Snape. I hear we should be wishing you happy."

There was a tense moment as if every eye in the Three Broomsticks was now trained on the unlikely prospect of Harry Potter essaying a handshake with the dread Potions master, whose Potter-loathing had been legend these past thirty years.

Severus stood stock still for a moment, his eyes glued to the hand of the man across from him. He had disdained Harry Potter upon sight for the unlucky resemblance he held to his father, James, the nemesis of Severus' school years. This young man, however, had stood like a warrior in the face of Lord Voldemort and had fought shoulder to shoulder at Severus' side. Furthermore, Hermione loved this Potter as a brother and a friend. With an imperceptible straightening of his spine, Severus took the proffered hand in a firm grasp, and black eyes met green as he said, "Thank you, Harry. I will do everything in my power to make her happy."

The collective sigh Hermione heard was surely her imagination, she thought, as additional chairs were dragged up, and Severus, Lupin, and Tonks joined them around the table. Madam Rosmerta was cheerfully summoned by Lupin, and before long, champagne was being poured into the landlady's best crystal goblets, and glasses were raised in a toast to Hermione's and Severus' health and happiness.

When Ron sat, lump-like, through the toast, Tonks finally leaned over to him and gave him a nudge, saying in a playful tone, "Wotcher, Ron! You with us, mate?"

Ron looked at her with unseeing eyes, his mien that of a broken man.

"Flocks of pink doves!" he said in tones of abject loathing. "Cupids with pink confetti!" Then he buried his face in his shaking hands while Harry, Tonks, and Lupin gave way to peals of laughter, and Hermione and Severus traded looks of confusion.

* * *

The sun was setting as the two couples wended their way back to Hogwarts, having parted company with Harry and Ron at the Apparition point. Tonks entertained them as they strolled to the castle with descriptions of the depredations Molly Weasley had made in the funds provided by Mr. Lovegood for Ron and Luna's wedding. When she described how Molly had been enthusiastically aided by Gilderoy Lockhart, the wedding consultant, Severus looked at Hermione in horror.

"Tell me we will have no vulgar displays at our wedding," he begged her quietly, as they passed through the gate guarded by statues of winged boars.

Hermione twinkled up at him mischievously. "Define vulgar," she suggested.

Lupin chuckled. "This is where we wish you a good night," he said, pulling Tonks into a one-armed embrace while he clapped Severus on the shoulder.

Severus smirked at him. "Get some rest, Lupin. The wedding is Friday night, and you are the best man. Loss of limb – or exhaustion – will _not_ excuse you."

Tonks wrapped her arms about Lupin's waist and gazed up at him with a look of sheer craving. "I'll just tuck him up and be on my way," she promised.

Severus snapped his fingers as if suddenly remembering something. "I'll have a house-elf pop in with a vitamin potion," he promised helpfully.

Lupin's, "Thanks for thinking of me, Severus," earned him nothing but an evil chuckle from the Potions master.

Severus led Hermione off for a walk around the lake. He shortened his stride to accommodate hers and held her close to him with an arm about her shoulders, the long fingers of his hand caressing her arm through the fabric of her jacket.

"Thank you for being so kind to Harry," she said to him.

"I was simply responding to his very courteous overture," he answered.

"You were gracious. You called him by his first name. You went beyond civility, and it made me very happy. Thank you."

He halted their progress and framed her face in his hands, tilting it so that they were gazing into one another's eyes. "Have you noticed, my Pet, that it is my one goal to make you happy?"

She smiled tremulously. "Yes," she breathed.

He bent to catch her lips in a searing kiss, pulling her body to his ravenously, one hand tangled in the mane of her hair, the other at the small of her back, pressing her to him urgently. Her hands quickly untucked his shirt from his trousers, and she slid her hands up his flat belly, over the ridge of his ribcage to lay over his pectoral muscles, lightly massaging his skin, loving the feel of the sinew beneath her hands.

Severus ended the kiss tenderly, releasing his hold on her in gradual stages, until he had pulled her hands from beneath his shirt. He sat her upon a fallen log in the spill of the newly risen moon, beneath the arching, star-filled heavens.

With his usual grace, he knelt before her, as if in supplication, and she gazed at him in surprised inquiry – until she saw the small velvet box in his hands, and her questions were stilled on her lips.

Knowing that the sight of the box had afforded him her unswerving attention, he smiled ironically to himself and opened the box so that she could see his one heirloom possession.

"While you were having tea with Minerva this morning, I paid a visit of ceremony to my Great Aunt Seraphina Snape," he told her. "She is my grandfather's only living sibling and the only one of my family for whom I feel the least affection." One corner of his lip quirked. "She is a veritable dragon; she never married, and she rules the Snape family with a will of iron."

Hermione listened to him raptly, watching his face as he related the story to her. "She had a falling out with my father before I was born, regarding his treatment of my mother. I saw Aunt Seraphina only on holidays, and then, when I went to Hogwarts, I did not see her again until after my parents' deaths because I spent my holidays at school.

"This ring has been in my family for generations. Great Aunt Seraphina refused to let my father have it when my parents married because she did not trust him not to sell it. I never knew of its existence until today. She has given this ring to us, Hermione, and it would make me very proud if you would accept it as your engagement ring."

Severus brought out his wand and spoke a "_Lumos_" spell so that Hermione could properly see the ring in its velvet cushion. The gemstone was a large square-cut emerald of startling clarity, set in a gold facing engraved with many overlappings of the letter "S." The aged gold was delicately burnished, reflecting the ring's antiquity.

Hermione found that she could not speak, as huge tears flooded her eyes and splashed down upon Severus' hands.

Severus shifted his weight, watching her uneasily. "Is it horrible?" he asked her uncertainly. It had looked like a perfectly adequate ring to him. He was no judge of such things, but the setting was neither too large nor too ornate, and it had the added attraction of being a valuable family heirloom. Surely most witches would be pleased by that fact?

Hermione pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. "It's beautiful, Severus. I never expected something like this! Oh, thank you!"

Severus passed a neatly pressed handkerchief to her, not letting her see the vast relief he felt at her reaction. Hermione dried her eyes, then tucked the handkerchief into her pocket.

"Let's see if it fits," Severus said softly.

He took her left hand and slid the ring onto her third finger, pleased to see that it slipped easily over her knuckle. For a moment they both gazed down at the Snape family heirloom engagement ring, then Severus lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss just below where the ring rested, as he looked deeply into her eyes.

"Will you make me the happiest man alive by doing me the honour of becoming my wife?" he asked her in a voice thick with emotion.

Her answer was to slip off the log to her knees, twining her arms tightly about him and speaking her answer with her lips pressed to the pulse beating beneath his jaw.

"Yes, please, oh, _yes_, Severus."

The moon continued to rise, becoming smaller in the sky, as the lovers sealed their troth in the soft summer grass on the banks of the Hogwarts lake. The breezes wafted across the water and through the trees, and if any animals heard the sighs and gasps and shouts of their raw, exquisite ecstasy, none stirred from the wood to investigate.

Perhaps a human or two, pacing ancient stone halls not far away, were aware of the nocturnal activities of the Enchanted lovers in the glade; they, however, valued their own lives highly enough that they chose not to interrupt these powerful paramours on this magical night of soul-binding promises and star-dusted dreams.

* * *

A/N: I will admit that I have been asked why Severus is proposing after the wedding has been planned. The actual proposal, as it were, took place in Master of Enchantment and was informal, to say the least. I felt that Severus, being a formal sort of man, would do the thing properly once he had a proper ring for her. The line "raw, exquisite ecstasy" comes from the song _Say What You Mean_ by Justin Hayward, of the Moody Blues; the song appears on their 1991 album, _Keys of the Kingdom_. I also must give credit to my Slytherin of a husband, who came up with the marvellous idea about what Gilderoy Lockhart's next career might be and how he might terrorise the Weasley/Lovegood wedding.


End file.
